


Honey, Just Let Me Adore You

by camerasparring



Series: Sex House [4]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Again, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Antique Shopping, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Bottom Richie, Come Marking, Come Shot, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Eddie Calls Richie Sir and He Likes It, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Felching, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Honeymoon, Honeymoon Fic Time!!!, IT Chapter Two Fix-It, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marijuana Use, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Minor Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Minor Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Mirror Sex, Outdoor Sex, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Public Hand Jobs, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Rimming, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Service Top Richie Tozier, Shower Sex, Smut, Surprise Stan Is Alive!, They try to have a picnic, Top Richie Tozier, Very Married and In Love, all sorts of fun, morning blow jobs, richie and eddie are married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 45,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21881659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camerasparring/pseuds/camerasparring
Summary: Something about being on the edge of their honeymoon wells up emotion in Richie's chest. They’ve never had this much time to spend together, not since they first left Derry. And most of that time had been spent with Eddie recovering. They didn’t get together until half a year later, and by that point Eddie was back to working full-time.  Richie wants so badly to let the time drag out, take it slowly, enjoy each other and bicker their fucking heads off about all sorts of stupid shit.Later, when Eddie’s stretching around the plug, full of Richie’s come, both of them tangled in the sheets and each other, all that’s going through Richie’s mind is how fucking lucky he is to get even one day alone with someone he loves so much.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Sex House [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552978
Comments: 128
Kudos: 573





	1. lately you've been on my mind

**Author's Note:**

> It's me! Once again! So, the boys are going on their honeymoon. I am having way too much fun just letting all of this happen, so this fic might be long. Like, very long. Like, definitely four chapters, but I can't guarantee one (or the rest) of them will be over 10k. I don't know, you can't stop me, just deal with it. 
> 
> This one, along with all the other ones, is for Heather because she gives me all the brainwaves and I just write down what she thinks of and then add many, many more words. The title is from a Harry Styles song because that's who I am, apparently.
> 
> Thank you for continuing to read! Sorry this one is a WIP but I'm hoping Chapter Two (lol) will be out on Christmas.

“I can’t believe you haven’t told me a thing about this place,” Eddie says, pinned under Richie’s weight on their bed. 

“It’s because I’m _amazing_ at secrets,” Richie answers, kissing at the sparse patch of hair on Eddie’s chest, hands tugging their bodies together. It distracts Eddie for a moment, but then he twists away.

“You are horrible at secrets. You proposed to me the day after you got the ring,” Eddie says. Richie rolls his eyes. And then his hips. Eddie gasps. 

“I’m also a romantic, Edward,” he says, and Eddie groans into his mouth.

It’s been a long day - the last before their vacation officially starts. Thanks to some clever maneuvering, Richie doesn’t have any shows for the next two weeks, and Eddie got time off work on a wing and a prayer. That leaves them with eight full days of honey-mooning, and Richie has big plans. And they all start with the new plug in the bedside drawer.

Eddie has spent the last few months building up his tolerance for keeping a plug in for this very occasion. Months ago, over breakfast and apropos of nothing, Eddie handed Richie a pamphlet on “appropriate plug use” and a printout from a website that held testimonials on how long-term plug users managed to keep theirs in all day. Eddie was determined. And shirtless. Richie was _horny_ , and he spent the whole presentation squirming in his seat, drooling at the flex of Eddie’s arms, before Eddie knelt down right there and sucked him dry. A reward for kind of paying attention, which Richie’s always thought to be his forte. 

Richie reaches for the drawer, mind flitting with memories of Eddie’s eyes on him, Eddie’s mouth humming around him, Eddie’s stupid pamphlet bunched up in his hand while he came down his throat. 

“How do you wanna do this?” Richie asks, plug box in hand. It’s a small, black silicone one, because that’s “the most porous” and “best for all day use,” according to the information now drilled into Richie’s brain via one very educational blow job. 

“What do you mean? You’ve put a plug in me before.” 

“No, duh. I mean, do you want me to fuck you first? Are you too tired?” Richie asks. Eddie had come home late, devoured the leftovers Richie had heated up while ranting and raving about his incompetent coworkers, and then promptly pulled Richie into the bedroom to get this vacation started.

“Do I look tired to you?” Eddie answers, gesturing down to himself, and Richie surveys the picture in front of him. Eddie’s flat on his back on the bed, creeping flush and bite marks covering his neck. His dick is practically standing at attention, resting lightly on the inside of Richie’s thigh where he’s straddling him. Richie groans. 

“Not a bit, sorry I asked,” he says, fumbling to pull the plug out of its box and onto the bed. Eventually he gives up and moves to press his lips to Eddie’s chest, too distracted by its heaving in his peripheral. Weaving his tongue around one nipple, he rubs a hand over Eddie’s arm, down his hip, over the hair under his navel. Eddie hums, and Richie almost moans. 

Something about being on the edge of their honeymoon wells up emotion in his chest. They’ve never had this much time to spend together, not since they first left Derry. And most of that time had been spent with Eddie recovering. They didn’t get together until almost a year later, and by that point Eddie was back to working full-time. Richie wants so badly to let the time drag out, take it slowly, enjoy each other and bicker their fucking heads off about all sorts of stupid shit. He smiles at the thought of it, and Eddie catches him lost in a daydream. 

“Enjoying yourself down there? ‘Cause you’re kinda blue-balling me,” Eddie says, voice tense, and Richie laughs. 

“You’re so fucking _impatient_ , Jesus.” He leans away, rubbing gentle hands up both of Eddie’s thighs, but maintaining a distance from his erection. Eddie whimpers, but his voice is strong. 

“You’re the one who mentioned fucking me and then immediately took the speed down to glacial,” he says, then sighs when Richie wraps a hand around his dick at last. Richie bends down to lick around the head, tracing it with his tongue as Eddie gulps down air.

“This what you wanted?” Richie asks. Eddie’s hips are jerking up, but he still looks unimpressed. It makes Richie go hot. 

“I wanna get fucked, but I trust you’re building up to it,” Eddie says, such a snarky asshole, and Richie can’t handle it, squeezes hard around him and attacks his mouth with a kiss. Eddie makes a loud squeak, surprised at his sudden shift in mood, but he goes with it when Richie starts to pump him in earnest, mouth opening hard against his. 

Later, when Eddie’s stretching around the plug, full of Richie’s come, both of them tangled in the sheets and each other, all that’s going through Richie’s mind is how fucking lucky he is to get even one day alone with someone he loves so much.  
  


Richie’s first plan goes off without a hitch. The second, not so much. 

After they get out of the city, the drive isn’t too bad, and Eddie only complains about how tightly Richie tailgates until halfway through, so he calls it a win. They pull up onto a rocky trail, drive for another mile and a half, and make a turn through a small gate they have to get out and open themselves. 

“If we get fucking murdered here I am never going to forgive you,” Eddie says when he gets back in the car, because the passenger is the support system, something they had given up on arguing about because Richie always drives and he will never concede the point. 

When they pull up over the hill, Eddie actually _gasps_ , and his smile is so wide and genuine that Richie lights up, too. 

His husband is a huge nerd. Eddie likes creepy things and mysteries and eerie stories as long as nothing gets too real or frightening. Or has anything to do with a clown. Despite what they had been through, Eddie’s always loved Halloween. Richie had asked him why exactly once.

“Pennywise happened in the _summer,_ Rich,” Eddie had whispered, not because they don’t talk about It, but because sometimes saying the name out loud makes them both feel crazy, their memories a painful and twisted up fog they’ve been working on for years. Richie had clung to him tightly, pressed together in bed.

“Plus, it’s Gay Christmas,” Eddie finished, yawned, and then promptly fell asleep.

Richie couldn’t argue with that. 

And when it came to finding novelty cabins to rent for a week, it made things a whole lot easier to narrow down. He found the place online, because he’s not sure where people find much else these days, and thankfully coming in on a Monday meant they were able to book it.

Richie pulls their bags out of the trunk, all seven of them, because Eddie insisted on being prepared for every eventuality, and stares up at his new home for the next week. It looks just like the pictures. Which look like they came out of a movie. A creepy fucking thriller about a writer who goes up to one of these alone and ends up killing a couple dogs and his ex-wife. 

But Eddie’s eyes are shining as he gets out of the car and approaches the front door, so Richie shakes off the feeling of dread and shifts his focus. 

The house stands on a small hill, surrounded by trees. The whole place is covered in a layer of ivy and moss, and the closest neighbors are half a mile away, other than the winery that’s down the hill. There’s a fire pit, a gas grill and a sizable hot tub on the little porch. There’s a small alcove with a table and a couple of chairs, and Richie instantly knows where he wants to smoke the joints he rolled for the trip. 

Actually, Richie sees a lot of potential here. Eddie is on Cloud Nine, walking circles around the property and reading the warning label on the hot tub. Richie watches him with a grin. 

“It’s fucking _perfect_ ,” Eddie says once he comes back around. 

“Wow, _perfect_ ,” Richie says, whistling, “Last time I heard that word from your mouth had more to do with my dick in your ass.” 

Eddie stares at him, arms dangling, and Richie waggles his eyebrows. 

“Okay, back in the car. Honeymoon over,” Eddie says, stalking back toward him. Richie throws himself in front of the car door before he can reach the handle. 

“No fucking way, dude, I just dragged seven _industrial_ sized suitcases out of the trunk, you are marching your perky ass into that house,” Richie says, pointing to the door. He realizes that either way, he’s going to need to lug these awful things a little further, to the door or the trunk, but Eddie hasn’t yelled back yet. Instead, his face is red, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, but it’s not his usual fighting stance. He’s… turned on. Richie watches him, a smile spreading over his lips, and Eddie raises an eyebrow. 

“Yes, _sir_ ,” he says, and Richie’s face falls slack. Eddie turns on his heel, but not before grabbing at the handle of three suitcases to bring with him. Heart pounding in his chest, Richie considers abandoning the rest and consummating the trip right here on the rocks, but he knows Eddie, and there are several very logical and sanitary reasons why he would never go for it. 

Still, Eddie’s never called him _sir_ before. 

Richie follows Eddie into the house, dragging four suitcases behind him because he’s not about to be one-upped, not on his own honeymoon. 

The inside is more rustic and less frightening than the outside, and Richie is grateful, since this is where they will be spending most of their time. It’s one open space but for the bathroom, with brand new appliances, a cozy living room and a giant California king under a half-moon window in the bedroom. Big arches separate the rooms, small torches mounted to the wall with LED lights. There’s a set of stairs near the door that head down to a large basement, complete with a bar and pool table. 

“The whole place is powered by solar energy, that’s what those huge lights are!” Eddie says, pointing up at the circular glowing orbs stuck in the middle of the ceiling of each room. He looks back down to where Richie is opening the fridge, eyes wild with excitement. Richie chuckles. 

“Pretty nicely stocked kitchen, too. We’ll have to get some groceries on the way back, but there’s a lot of stuff to cook here.” Richie says. 

“Way back? Are we going somewhere already?” Eddie asks, still excited, and Richie nods. 

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Richie says. Eddie presses his hands to his hips and Richie caves. “Well, yeah, we’re leaving, I guess that’s not gonna be a secret. But to _where_? You’ll never _know_!” Richie finishes, in some sort of spooky voice because this house is getting to him. Eddie cracks a smile and laughs, moving forward to slap him on the shoulder. Then he gasps and heads toward the bathroom, where Richie hears him exclaim a few seconds later.

Richie follows him to find him standing in front of a giant mirror on the wall opposite the shower, which has a large, glass door and a bench inside. 

“I think we can both agree I nailed it,” Richie says, out of his mind with glee. Eddie _loves_ fucking in the shower. It’s the cleanest they could ever get, and even though it’s slippery and dangerous, they go slow and Eddie is all careful and concerned and flushed from head to toe and, okay, so Richie _also_ really loves fucking in the shower. 

Eddie also has a thing for mirrors. Which is why he’s mesmerized by the full body one he’s currently staring into. In fact, he looks just about to drop his pants and insist Richie fuck him immediately when Richie pulls on the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Babe, I have _plans_ , remember? We can use the mirror later, I promise, it’s all part of the plan,” Richie says, wrapping his arms around Eddie and turning him to face the shower instead. 

“It was? You knew this was here?” Eddie’s eyes are so hopeful, and Richie wants to lie, but there’s really no point. 

“Uhm. No,” he says, and Eddie rolls out of his grip. “I can adjust the plan based on new information! And this was immediately added to the _plan_. Now. Let’s get a move on before it gets too late.” 

Eddie’s arms are crossed over his chest, like he’s turning it over in his mind. He sighs.

“Fine.” 

“I promise I _will_ fuck you in front of this mirror,” Richie says, hands clasped together to swear. 

“You fucking better, the drive alone with this plug in was torture,” Eddie says, and Richie’s eyes go unfocused for a second. 

He had spent some time watching Eddie shift in the passenger’s seat on the drive, they had hit lots of bumps, but he tried to focus on the road instead of how easily he could reach over and slip a hand under Eddie’s sweatpants. Eddie always traveled ultra-comfortable, especially if they were in the car and had no pit stops planned. The temptation to pull over and fuck him in the backseat had only crossed Richie’s mind once. He nixed it quickly to avoid back pain this early in the trip, but the thought of a fast handjob stuck with him. 

Richie leads Eddie out of the bathroom at long last, but as they’re leaving, he hears Eddie whisper behind him as he lets the mirror out of his sights.

“I’ll be back for you, beautiful.” 

Richie pumps his fist. Really. Fucking. Nailed it. 

The drive to their adventure destination is another twenty minutes, but it shaves time off of the walking they would have to do, and Richie doesn’t want to push it. Mike told him about this place a few months ago, when he was booking the cabin. Mike had done his fair share of traveling, and whenever he was in LA he ended up taking a long route back home, so he found little hidden gems. The lack of hiking was a plus, along with incredible views and the fact that Mike spent a solid eight hours camped out in the same place and never saw another person. 

“Are we almost there?” Eddie says, watching tree after tree pass him in the window. “Why do we keep going _up_?” He peers through the windshield and Richie grips the wheel. 

It is getting a little scary. The road is narrow, and even though they haven’t seen another car in awhile, Richie’s not sure what he would do if one appeared. His options are crashing into a wall of rocks or falling off the edge of what looks to be a canyon. 

“My phone lost signal but from what Mike said, I think we’ll be there soon.” 

Eddie harumphes. Richie white knuckles it the rest of the way there. 

The view ends up being so, _so_ worth it. 

Their climb is mild, though it’s steep. Eddie jogs every morning, so he takes it quicker than Richie, even with the plug snug up inside him. He makes little breathy noises every time it hits right, and Richie sneaks in a few squeezes to his ass on the way up, just to keep up the excitement. 

Eddie arrives at the peak first and gasps. Richie counts three so far this trip, and that’s pretty impressive, considering they have yet to have sex and it’s only been about three hours, not counting the drive. When Richie climbs up to meet him, his eyes glaze over. 

They’re on a relatively small patch of land among the trees, all dirt and some greenery. Where the rock ends is a crooked ledge, big enough for both of them to sit comfortably near the edge and enjoy a picnic. But the vista below it is the real selling point.

They stand side by side, taking in the view, elbows knocking in the slightest breeze. The lines of trees and rocks and water stretch out beyond what Richie thinks is probably human existence, all jagged and colorful. The warmth in the air isn’t suffocating, not today. Instead the sun flows through beautifully, bouncing off the water in reflections that point up toward the sky. He turns to look at Eddie and sees tears in his eyes. 

“Eddie.” 

“Don’t say a fucking word,” Eddie sniffs, and Richie, for once in his life, doesn’t. He pats Eddie on the shoulder and leaves him to it, turning around to retrieve the basket he put down on the dirt behind them. It’s not ideal, but the blanket he brought is big enough to shield Eddie from the mess. Eddie’s right behind him as soon as he turns back. 

“You brought a _picnic_?” Eddie asks, and Richie jumps. 

“ _Christ_ , Eds, no surprising me near the edge!” 

“Sorry, shit, sorry,” Eddie says, raising his hands and leaning in for an apology kiss. The basket catches between them, so it’s barely a peck, but it makes Eddie giggle and push him away. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that I planned this?” Richie asks, pulling the blanket out first. 

“Oooh! And what else do you have in there? If you say ‘that’s for me to know and you to find out’ I will push you off this very steep mountain.” 

“Does this count as a mountain? I think it’s a vista.” Richie looks out at the view. 

“I don’t think that’ll matter once you’re at the bottom of it,” Eddie says, and the cruelty surprises a laugh out of Richie.

“Yikes, day one and out come the death threats!” He says, and Eddie looks only the slightest bit guilty. He hides it by shoving a hand at the basket in Richie’s arms and pulling out a package. 

“Did you… bring… hot dogs?” Eddie asks, staring blankly at him.

“Yeah! Quick and easy,” Richie says, grinning ear to ear. Eddie keeps staring, and it suddenly feels like something has gone very, very wrong. 

“How are we supposed to cook these, dude? Are you serious? Is this a joke?” Eddie’s looking at him like he should have known this, like he’s made a huge mistake. 

Richie snatches them from Eddie and peers down at the package of hot dogs. When he saw them in the store, it seemed like the most logical solution. He isn’t good at making sandwiches, nor can he do any sort of cooking. But hot dogs are simple, just microwave them in water and… Okay, so he’s an idiot. 

Eddie’s watching his revelation, face frozen in confusion, and Richie’s mouth opens then shuts, fear prickling down his spine. _Fuck_. He told Eddie to trust him, to let him handle this, and refused to tell him the plan. This is why Eddie plans everything. Richie will undoubtedly fuck it up if it’s left to him. 

“I mean, there aren’t even buns in… Rich, are you spiraling in there?” Eddie asks, voice suddenly gentle. He presses a hand to Richie’s arm where it’s stuck at his side. 

“Yeah, uh,” Richie starts, clearing his throat, “it appears I’m not as good at planning as I first thought.” 

“Hit the nail on the head there, I think,” Eddie says, but it’s soft and teasing. Richie rolls his eyes and heaves a breath.

“Wow, I already killed the romance.”

“C’mon, Rich, we’ll look at the view for awhile and then hit that burger place on the way back,” Eddie says, but Richie shakes his head.

“I have the set up for a whole picnic!” He says, lifting up the basket as evidence. Eddie shrugs.

“We can still do it without the food,” he says. It makes Richie even more flustered.

“Why are you being so fucking nice? I totally botched this.” 

Eddie exhales, the sigh of a long-suffering husband, hands pressed to his hips.

“Cause I fucking _love_ you, okay? Look at this view. Our cabin is creepy and really fucking cool. You keep looking at me like you want to eat me alive or maybe propose again, and this plug has me wanting you to fuck me against the nearest tree,” Eddie says, huffing a bit. He changed into tighter pants before they left, and Richie can see the line of him, partially hard, along his thigh. 

Richie blinks a few times, the useless hot dogs burning a hole in his hand. 

“You’re _you_ , so of course you fucked a bunch of shit up, but I’m away from work for the first time in years, and I’m with you, and I’m having fun already cause you make it so easy to tease you about the shit you do. I shouldn’t eat much with the plug in anyway. Now stop making me say it and fucking _touch_ me while we eat some granola bars, man.” 

Eddie steals the blanket and spreads it out quickly over the edge of the rock. He takes a seat and Richie almost has a heart attack. He approaches behind him, but sees several layers of rock below his dangling legs and releases a breath. 

The racing buzz of Eddie’s words float like a happy swoop in his chest, so Richie crouches down slowly, pressing right behind him, chest to back, thighs bracketing him, hot dogs forgotten. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s stomach. Eddie stays quiet but pulls him in closer. 

“Am I the only one scared out of my mind right now? Your legs are _hanging_ off the side,” Richie says. Eddie just laughs.

They have a gradual incline right under their feet, and there’s probably no way they could fall off, but Richie is still impressed with Eddie’s calm. Richie feels a little dizzy at the sight of it, but Eddie’s holding him tightly, so he accepts his fate of potential death as long as this is the last thing he feels. He turns his face against Eddie’s, tracing the shell of his ear with one finger, pressing a kiss there in its wake. Eddie smiles, lines creasing in his face, and Richie wants to absorb him. Pull him closer and fuse into one person, just so he can have this _always_. 

They watch birds sweep across the blue sky, tucked into each other. Every once in awhile, Richie’s fingers itch for the camera he brought, just to document the stunning beauty of both his husband and the vista, but it’s too far a reach behind him. He wants to make his friends jealous, mostly because they all elected to move the fuck out of California, but also because he bagged the hottest Loser, no matter how often and enthusiastically Bev disagrees. Mike doesn’t even bother arguing, usually just slings an arm around Bill’s neck and laughs.

At the end of the day, Richie knows he’s the true winner. None of them know how breathtakingly beautiful Eddie is when they’re alone, breathing Richie’s name, stretched out and hot to the touch, every inch of him singing to be closer. 

Richie’s pressing a kiss to the curve of Eddie’s jaw when he shifts uncomfortably. 

“Ants in your pants, Spaghetti?” he asks, cupping a hand around Eddie’s face, feeling bold and turned on, knowing it’s the plug. 

“It’s pressing right, _ugh_ ,” Eddie breathes, and Richie smoothes his hands up his thighs. “It’s right _there_ , and your hands, god.” 

“Does it feel good?” Richie asks, heart thudding painfully in his ears. Eddie moans.

“ _Shit_. Yeah. I’m so sensitive,” he says, leaning into Richie’s touch. Richie slides a hand up to grab at Eddie’s dick through his pants. He’s hard, and Richie’s hips twitch, jerking against the small of Eddie’s back. He shifts his feet to divets in the rock for leverage. 

“You want more?” Richie asks, fingers dancing over the line of him. 

Eddie moans louder. “Yes, god, jerk me off.” 

Richie scrambles to undo Eddie’s pants but is immediately caught when he gets through the zipper. 

“What the fuck, Eds, is this some kind of chastity belt shit?” 

“It’s-they’re tighter underwear to keep the plug in!” Eddie answers, pushing at the black waistband to tuck them right under his erection, pinning his balls down. “Plus I wanna come while you fuck me over that tree, so the pressure will help.” He points behind them at one specific tree, two parallel branches reaching out sideways, and Richie laughs high in his chest. 

“Of _course_ you’ve scoped out a sex tree, I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Richie says. He palms quickly at Eddie’s cock, and Eddie bucks back against him. 

“The underwear thing was in my presentation,” he mutters under his breath. Richie tightens his grip and this time Eddie jerks forward. Richie presses his free hand to the center of his chest, pinning them together, brain gone white with fear. 

“ _Fuck_ , Eddie, please do not pitch head-first off this cliff, I do not want to have to explain to our friends,” he says, and Eddie laughs, a rumble through both of them. He plants both of his hands on either side of Richie’s legs and scoots back an inch, now completely snug in the v of his crotch. 

“I don’t know, I think that’d be pretty fucking funny,” he says, grinding back as much as he can, then forward into Richie’s hand. Richie hisses, the pressure against his own cock delicious. 

Fuck, Eddie is so hot. He’s hanging off the edge of a huge gaping hole in the Earth, a plug up his ass and his dick hard and leaking, and he’s still the one with all the power here. Richie is in the passenger’s seat, fully willing to be the support system.

“What? Me, hard and devastated?” Richie whispers. It hits a little too close to home, but Eddie rolls his hips between Richie’s and moans. 

“No, you fucker, you explaining how you killed me on the first day of our honeymoon, but you should get your dick out,” Eddie says all in a rush, arms straining, one hand fisted in the blanket and the other holding tight to Richie’s thigh. Richie groans, leaning back to copy Eddie’s move and push at his much cheaper, much trashier drawstring pants to release his cock. He thrusts it against the line of Eddie’s spine, the sight absolutely _scorching_. 

“Oh god, _god_ , yes,” Richie says, pushing at the hem of Eddie’s shirt so he doesn’t smear come all over it. Eddie reaches back to take it off completely, and Richie throws it behind them. Eddie’s skin is warm and dewy and Richie takes every opportunity to kiss and touch, stroking him faster and rubbing off against his back best he can, small twitches of his hips for a small amount of friction.

“Richie, that feels good, _fuck_ , shit,” Eddie says, his voice thin, “I don’t wanna stop but I need you to fuck me.” Eddie shifts like he’s looking to get up. Richie releases his grip around Eddie’s dick and twists around fast, brain suddenly coming online. The adrenaline makes the reach easier than before, the need to capture this moment more important than the limits of the human body. 

“Wait, wait wait, I totally forgot about the camera,” he says. Eddie turns his head, mouth red and bitten, skin flush. 

“Is that… a Polaroid?” 

Richie scoffs. “It’s actually a Canon, my love. All the better to document you with.” 

“Oh god,” Eddie says, but Richie knows he wants it, knows he worries about things getting onto the internet, especially since Richie’s at least _pretty_ famous, and he hears Eddie’s breathing come a little faster at the first snap of a picture. It spits out a thick piece of paper and Richie shakes it in his hand, just for the nostalgia.

The view is ridiculous, the beautiful blue sky in the background, the trees lush and green, a peak of the rippling water below. And in the foreground, Eddie’s arched and heaving back, golden in the light, the cut of his jaw and lip. Richie’s dick is hard and wet, tucked against the middle of Eddie’s spine. This one will definitely not be suitable for the group chat. 

“Hurry the fuck up, Rich,” Eddie moans as Richie takes another picture, and he clicks his tongue.

“You are so going to thank me later,” Richie says and snaps one more while Eddie whines. Three feels right. “My dick looks _phenomenal_.” 

Richie sets the camera aside, laying out the pictures to develop and moving to pull Eddie in from the edge, arms around his middle. Eddie laughs and pushes him away, standing up in a hunched line, his cock red and leaking. His eyes are dark so Richie reaches out, kissing him messily, and Eddie sighs. They lean in to each other easily, pants drooping, a huddled couple of morons in love. Richie holds Eddie around the nape of his neck, and Eddie smiles up at him, his hair ruffling in the wind. 

Richie feels it poke him right in the ribs, that overwhelming feeling of love. He wells up a little and Eddie sees it. It’s impossible for Richie to hide when he’s got everything he’s ever wanted. Even if it’s just standing here with Eddie, their dicks out in the wind. 

“You are so fucking cheesy,” Eddie says, kissing over each of Richie’s eyelids, brushing away the tears, because it’s what he does when he’s feeling sweet but still slinging shit, and Richie knows it means they’re in the same sappy boat. 

“Yeah, you’d know that if you weren’t just using me for my body,” Richie says, kissing at Eddie’s forehead and holding him close. Eddie snorts and grabs at him. 

“You say that like you’re not rock hard, bud,” Eddie says, then quickly adds, “and please do not make a rock pun.” Eddie’s voice is low and teasing, his hand wrapping around Richie’s cock for insurance, and Richie’s fingers stick in Eddie’s hair. Eddie mouths along the collar of his shirt. “Now you gonna fuck me with this phenomenal dick or what?” 

Richie nods and Eddie keeps stroking, backing them up slowly. His grip is steady and sure as it runs over Richie. Richie shivers as they move along, trusting Eddie to walk him backward, and also not really giving a shit if he trips because it all feels way too _good_. Then his ass hits the bark of a tree, and he’s really fucking glad there’s a layer of fabric protecting him. Eddie swivels around to rummage through the bag, bent over and ass in the air. Richie swallows. 

“You wanna sit on my dick?” Richie asks, the idea tugging something in his abdomen. The tree seems sturdy enough to seat him, but Eddie is already shaking his head when he appears with the lube and a towel.

“No, not right now,” he says, smiling, and it makes Richie’s head spin. Eight days ahead of them and he already feels like he’s losing his mind. Good thing he has another week off after this, he’ll need the time to rehydrate and pull himself back together. 

Eddie puts the lube on the ground, towel in hand, and leans over Richie to kiss him. Their cocks brush, and Richie moans into his mouth. The branch creaks beneath him. 

“Now that I’m sitting here I’m not sure this tree can take it,” Richie says. Eddie ignores him and takes one of Richie’s hands, sucking two fingers into his mouth. 

“I really wish I could get my mouth on you,” he says, eyes hot and trained on Richie, fingers sitting on the edge of his lips, “but I am not fucking kneeling here.” Richie laughs, overwhelmed. Eddie grins and leans down to kiss him, hissing when Richie palms at his hip, the smallest touch getting to him. His chest is patchy red and sweaty, he looks floaty and smug and so turned on, towel clutched tightly in his hand, and when he bends slightly to lick around the head of Richie’s dick, Richie wants to swallow him whole. 

The angle is awkward and even though Eddie does yoga (“For the flexibility, dipshit, do you know how hard it is for me to get my knees to my fucking _ears_?”), Richie knows it won’t last long. But Eddie’s mouth is like a soft vice around the head of his dick, and he bobs a couple times, the suction perfect. He comes off with a stunted groan, lifting his head and kissing Richie dirty and wet. His hands are frantic with something, but Richie’s already so gone, the little whimpers deep in Eddie’s chest driving him crazy. 

“ _Shit_ ,” Eddie says, then he’s pulling at Richie’s hand, fingers still slick with his saliva, and leading it to press at where the plug’s base sits under his balls. Richie’s eyes blink open to Eddie’s pants and underwear shoved around his thighs, harder than he’s ever seen him before. 

“Baby, _god_ , you need me to fuck you?” Richie circles Eddie’s balls in his hands gently, but they’re already drawn up and tight. Eddie nods, eyes unfocused. 

“Yeah, yeah, get the lube so you can reapply when you take the plug out.”

Even in the face of shocking arousal and full body tremors, Eddie Kaspbrak will always follow a set of instructions to the letter. They had talked about this, about him fucking Eddie while he’s full of come, about reapplying lube over the course of the day, about reinserting it multiple times. But now, sitting on this branch and staring up at the real thing, Richie is even hornier than he thought he would be, and that’s saying something. 

“ _Richie_ ,” Eddie says, gripping a hand around Richie’s shoulder. Richie cuts his attention from Eddie’s beautiful cock and the feel of the plug stretching him out and hops to attention. 

“Fuckin’ hell, yes, sorry. You’re distracting.” Richie stands up like a shot and picks the lube up off the ground. Eddie moves himself to lean against a more vertical tree branch, back to Richie, wrapping the towel around the bark and hugging it, and it’s so stupid and so cute that Richie’s heart lurches in his chest. Then Eddie turns, a panicked look in his eyes. 

“Oh my god, Richie, this is going to ruin my fucking pants. But I can’t take off my fucking shoes! I’m gonna slice my foot open, and I’m certainly not putting my shoes back on after-”

“I brought you another pair of pants, calm down, Super Nanny. And there’s basically a lifetime’s supply of wet wipes and some more towels in the basket, didn’t you see?” Richie asks, and Eddie answers with a gutted moan.

“Holy shit, _Richie_ , get the fuck over here right now and fuck me. Right fucking now,” Eddie says, a desperate burst of air, and Richie pops open the lube and steps in right behind him, crowding him closer to the tree, choking out a wild laugh.

“Yeah? You want it?” Richie says, wrapping a hand all the way around Eddie’s hip, cause he knows Eddie loves to feel how big he is, how completely he can move him around, push and pull him, hold him tight. Eddie nods, resting his forehead against the towel between his arms. 

“ _God_ yes, _fuck_ , I want you so bad,” he says, and he sounds half out of his mind. Richie feels similarly, and his hands shake as he goes to remove the plug. 

Eddie’s right - it’s messy. Richie’s come from the night before slides down the inside of his thigh, and they moan in tandem as Richie reaches to place the plug on another towel spread out on the ground. He lubes himself up and tries to keep it together, but the sight of Eddie’s hole open and waiting, shiny and slick with the evidence of the last time they were here goes to his head. He thumbs at Eddie’s opening and pushes some back in, and Eddie slams a hand against the tree. 

“Oh my god, I’m going to die, Richie, I don’t know if I can handle it,” he says, and Richie stops fingering at him to pepper soothing kisses along his back. 

“You can do this, Eds, just take some breaths.” Richie runs a hand along Eddie’s spine and feels his ribs expand. 

He would usually recommend they stop, he could finish Eddie off with his mouth or hands and clean him up instead, but he knows Eddie wants it, it’s his dirtiest fantasy, something they’ve gotten off just _talking_ about, and Richie’s determined to make this happen for him. He tries not to think too hard about how suffocatingly hot it is that Eddie’s wildest dream is to be plugged up with his come all day, blissed out and dripping.

“Okay, okay. It’s intense, _god_. I’ve never held off this long and you’re being really fucking cute and I’m losing my mind,” Eddie rambles, and Richie stops petting at him, closing his eyes like he took a punch. Unfiltered shit always flows from Eddie’s mouth when he’s about to get fucked, but this is by far Richie’s new favorite admission. 

“Eddie, please tell me you’re ready,” he says, and Eddie takes one more deep breath before nodding. 

“Yeah, come on.” 

Richie has to crouch a little, bending his knees so the height difference doesn’t get them, and he knows it’ll burn later, worst in his calves, but there’s no way either of them are fit to last long. They’re spooned together, Eddie’s arms looped around the tree branch, practically standing, and when Richie slides in it’s easy and deep. He wraps himself around Eddie, one hand gripping at his hip and the other his cock. 

They move slowly, Richie’s thrusting a gradual burn. Richie feels like they’re touching everywhere, even though it’s not possible, but they’re so _close_ , and Richie loves it. Eddie’s a bit boneless, groaning long and low, holding onto the tree for dear life. It doesn’t take long for him to start talking. 

“I can still feel you, _ah_ , all over my leg, there’s so much of you, _god_ , I want more,” Eddie says, pushing back onto Richie’s dick, and Richie grinds in deep, pinning Eddie to the tree, their chests crushed together. 

“Yeah, you want me to come in you?” 

“ _Fuck_ , yes, Richie.” 

“You didn’t get enough last night?” Richie says, and as the words fall so does his sanity, thrusting up faster, bouncing Eddie on his dick, so wet and sloppy. Eddie’s whimpering as Richie strokes him hard. 

“No, shit, _ugh_ , no, do it, come on.” 

Richie’s losing control, his movements erratic, and Eddie takes over, pushing his hips down to meet Richie’s, their skin a sweaty slide together. Richie wants to give Eddie everything, can’t stop thinking about how shameless Eddie is, how now that he’s learned to be comfortable and say what he wants he never stops, and sometimes Richie rolls his eyes and sometimes his heart sings and sometimes he comes so hard he blacks out. Depends on the day. 

Right now, he’s about to blast off like a rocket, and Eddie won’t stop _talking_.

“Gonna fuckin’ ride you in that shower, baby, let all your come make it easy, let you watch us in the mirror, get us both clean and then you can come in me again, I can’t get enough, never enough, _come on_ , Rich, give me what I want, know you love me,” Eddie says, hips working hard and voice thin. 

Richie’s getting light-headed, the effort of fucking in and out too much, and Eddie’s words threaten to burn him from the inside out. Richie loves this position, fucking Eddie from behind. Even though he can’t see Eddie’s face, watching himself is maddening, his long cock pushing in past Eddie’s rim over and over, and every time he bottoms out, Eddie flinches in his arms. Richie’s hand flies up to dig into the bark of the tree so he can feel a little more grounded. 

He slams into Eddie one, two, three more times, and then starts to unravel inside him.

“ _Fuuuuuuck_ ,” Richie groans, his hand on Eddie’s dick forgotten, coming deep, filling Eddie up again. Even his ears tingle, his vision fuzzy at the edges. His knees almost buckle but he needs to hold Eddie up, needs to keep him there. Eddie waits for him, gives him a break, and Richie kisses at the nape of his neck. He takes a breath and strokes Eddie, still deep inside, still yet to soften, just how Eddie likes. 

“Oh god, you fill me up so good,” Eddie says, heat swirling around both of them. 

“Nnnngh,” Richie moans, and Eddie twists his hips where they’re still pressed against Richie’s pelvis, soaking in the feel of them together. “You make it easy,” Richie says, loving the feel of Eddie in his hand, Eddie clenched around him, Eddie trusting Richie to hold him, bodies lined up. Eddie’s still clinging to the tree, but he starts to shift on Richie’s dick slowly. 

“I’m really close, Rich,” he says, “wanna come while you’re inside me.” 

Eddie loves that. Richie’s mouth waters. 

“You gonna come so I can plug you back up?” he says, punctuated with a squeeze of his palm around Eddie’s cock. Eddie’s whole body wracks with a shiver.

“Yeah, _yeah_ , shit.” Richie wants to get him there so badly, pumps him a little quicker and lets his mouth run, some semblance of payback.

“Come on baby, come on my cock. Don’t even need to be fucking you, you love it so much, love me deep inside, just like sitting on my dick so much.” 

Eddie groans and then breaks, clenching down around him. Richie switches to a fast and desperate flick of his wrist, working Eddie through it until he whines. He always sounds different when he’s strung out, groans all mixed up with a desperate laugh, like he can’t believe what he’s feeling. Richie wants to kiss him, so he holds him tighter instead. 

Eddie drapes himself over the tree to catch his breath. 

“Fuck, Richie, my god, that was good,” he says, pushing back so their bodies are flush again, and Richie’s suddenly glad he brought a change of clothes for the both of them. There’s come _everywhere_. 

“Yeah?” he says, still high on it. 

“Yeah, I’d say you made up for the picnic ten-fold,” Eddie says, and Richie can’t let him go, knows he has to pull out and get the plug but wants to stay there forever. But that is for a different day. The _plan_. 

“Music to my ears. Now hold still, maybe bend over? I have to get the plug and lube, babe.” 

Eddie groans but bends at the waist, Richie’s hands still grabbing him everywhere he can reach. Richie bites the bullet and removes himself slowly, a rush of come following, and he keeps a thumb pressed to Eddie’s rim to mitigate the damage. When he finds the plug he has to pull away completely to slather it in lube, just like Eddie taught him. Eddie’s breathing hard as it enters him, but Richie goes slow. 

When it’s finally in, Richie stays close, sucking a gentle spot over one of Eddie’s ribs. Eddie hums and moves upright, back into Richie’s hold, and Richie hums back. 

“I’m gonna need at least half of those wet wipes,” Eddie says, turning slowly in his grip and hunching his back, like he wants to break out of his skin and crawl away. Richie laughs and kneels to start untying both sets of their shoes. 

Part of their deal around the plug was that Richie would do most of the clean up. Eddie finds concentration hard to come by whenever they use it, but mostly, he likes to be taken care of. He always gets breathy and desperate, cuddling closer and pressing in for kisses, the reminder of Richie inside him so present. Richie will take all of it and then some, so he’s practically whistling as he folds their soiled clothing and packs it away. 

Eddie watches him, stretched out and leaning against the trunk of their designated Sex Tree, a pleased smile on his face. Richie turns to him after making sure he’s got all their belongings. 

“How’s it going, my dear? How does… wait. Did you ever name your plug?” Richie asks, concerned. Eddie shakes his head and squints his eyes. 

“What? No, I’m not naming - did you name _yours_?” he asks, and Richie scoffs.

“Uh, _yeah_ , Eds. Sonia goes _inside_ me. I’m not going to disrespect her like that.” 

Eddie’s face turns beet red.

“That is _not_ fucking funny.” 

Richie blows him a kiss. 

They don’t end up needing the granola bars, the burger place between their cabin and the failed picnic is cheap and delicious, and both of them devour their cheeseburgers before going back for two more. 

Richie spends most of the time suggesting names, and Eddie ignores him until the veins in his neck look tight and dangerous. Eventually he pushes Richie against the car and kisses him until he melts like ice cream, the afternoon sun beating down on the both of them. 

Any honeymoon plan worth its salt needs to roll with the punches, and Richie is prepared to be adaptable. He had wanted to stop on the way back, get some groceries so they could spend all day tomorrow inside, since the forecast predicts mostly rain. But Eddie rests a hand on his thigh while they’re driving, eyes pleading, so Richie decides to switch it up and pushes a little harder on the gas. 

They pull up to the cabin feeling itchy and grimy, and Eddie leads Richie inside by his hand, fingers interlaced. Richie’s heart is in his throat. 

When Eddie brings him to the bathroom and pushes him to sit on the toilet while he strips out of his clothes, Richie sends up a prayer to the universe that he’s such a flexible guy.

Eddie’s quickly fully naked, and already hard, again, and Richie’s asshole clenches around nothing, wanting it inside him. Maybe tomorrow. Eddie will be sore, especially if this impromptu striptease is leading where Richie thinks it is, and Richie will gladly take that torch and run with it. 

Later, when Eddie removes the plug from himself for good, straddled over Richie where he sits on the shower bench, Richie feels Eddie’s thick cock slip through his fingers and imagines it deep and wet, fucking into him so _good_. 

He swallows around the lump in his throat and watches as Eddie hovers above him. 

“I think three times in 24 hours is a new record, my love,” Richie says, cock now slick with his own come from Eddie’s hole. It runs with the water, but the sight of it is amazing, and Richie takes a breath against the fog of steam. Eddie screws his lips together and lowers himself down, the tip of Richie just touching him. 

“What’s with the new, sappy love names?” he asks, voice strained. Richie grins up at him. 

“Why, you missin’ the likes of Spaghetti and ‘that dickweed over there’? I can put them back in rotation,” Richie says, but his heart is pounding, and not just because Eddie’s steadily inching onto his hard dick. 

“Not exactly,” Eddie breathes. He’s taking his time, and Richie sees the flash of pain in his eyes as he moves. He presses a hand to the small of Eddie’s back, holding him in place.

“We don’t have to do this, sweetheart,” he says, because he really just wants to be good to his man, and Eddie’s eyes hold him gently like he hung the moon. “You did so good today, baby.” 

Eddie moans. “Fuck, you’re making me dizzy, stop it.”

“Stop? You need to get off?” He grips at Eddie’s hips but Eddie shakes his head. 

“No, _no_ , don’t you dare move, just stop it with the sweet fucking names,” he says, a frustrated exhale, and Richie tries to kiss him, but Eddie hisses. “It’s just my knees. I might not be able to hold myself up for too long.” Richie makes a clumsy effort to rub at them on either side of his thighs. There’s a towel under them on the bench, it’s sopping wet, but it’s better than kneeling on tile.

“Busy morning?” Richie asks, grinning. Eddie kisses him and grunts into his mouth, now fully seated on Richie’s cock. Richie grabs at his ass, spreading his cheeks just a little, finger tracing where they’re connected. Eddie thrusts his tongue deep into Richie’s mouth and starts to ride him. 

Eddie’s overstimulated from the plug and it’s his third time being fucked in a short period of time, so every move he makes pushes a little whimper from his mouth. His kissing is hazy. It makes Richie’s lips buzz. 

The heavy steam of the shower makes it difficult to see them in the mirror, a side-view of Eddie impaling himself, but Richie’s heady with it anyway. His hair is damp and stuck to his head and neck, and he’s got his stupid glasses on because he wanted to be able to watch as Eddie got his fill. Eddie keeps kissing him, deep and tired, so the view is limited, blurry and tentative, but Richie still fucking loves it. He could look at Eddie til the day he dies, blind as a bat, he’d recognize that ridiculous little body anywhere. 

Eddie rolls his hips in Richie’s lap, catching his breath. Richie smiles and Eddie rolls his eyes, burying his head against Richie’s shoulder, biting him on the sharp line of his collarbone. 

“Ow, _fuck_ , what’s that for?” Richie asks, grinding up to make Eddie groan.

“For taking care of me,” Eddie says, rough and shaky between them, his head hung low. Richie wants, for one glorious second, to let the wave rising in his chest overtake him, but then Eddie’s pressing up on his knees and Richie slips out of him. 

“What’s-” he starts, then Eddie pushes Richie’s knees together and turns around. 

“Now fuck me like this,” he says, sitting on Richie’s dick nice and slow, just like he promised earlier. Richie can barely breathe, the moisture and humidity of the shower is all-encompassing, and now his view rivals that of the colorful vista from this morning. He spreads his legs just a little to get some leverage on the tile floor and then pumps his hips straight up into Eddie, hands on his hips. 

“Oh my god, Eds,” he says, mesmerized by how Eddie looks stretched around him. He watches himself moving in and out, and when he bucks a little too hard, Eddie slaps a hand to the shower door to steady himself and cries out. Richie’s hips jerk.

“Yeah, put your hands on the door,” Richie says without thinking, growled right into Eddie’s ear, and then Eddie is moaning, words vibrating straight from his chest.

“ _Yes, sir_ ,” he says, almost like he doesn’t mean to, pivoting a little to follow Richie’s orders. 

Richie snaps. He lifts off the bench, still deep inside, and manhandles Eddie around until both his hands are on the shower door, facing the mirror completely. He’s standing behind Eddie again, just like they were over the tree, but Eddie’s eyes are blown, his jaw hanging open. 

“Brace yourself,” Richie says, and Eddie swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. 

Once Richie really puts his back into it, neither of them can talk anymore. 

It’s been a long day, but Richie can’t hold back, and Eddie watches him with flickering eyes, hot and desperate. The mirror gives them both the entire view. Richie can’t fucking think straight, can’t see anything but where his hips meet the curve of Eddie’s ass, can’t hear anything but the circle of his own broken thoughts, a cracked code of _mine mine mine mine_. 

Every fiber of his being loves Eddie. He loves him when they wake up and when they go to sleep, when they’re arguing or melding minds to dissect shit they both love. He loves Eddie’s kisses and his coffee breath and the stupid way he still closes the door when he pisses because “there’s a fucking line, Richard.” He loves every single filthy thing Eddie’s ever said, the way he’ll still fall for Richie’s dumb jokes and the look in his eyes when all their friends are together. 

And Eddie is _his_. It’s honest and it’s real and it pours from him every single moment of his life, crawling from the center of him, pathetic and enthralling and really fucking _perfect_. 

Richie pulls Eddie down on him again and again, snapping his hips against Eddie’s prostate, and Eddie comes on the spot, all over the glass of the door. Richie sees it in the mirror, sees the white press of his fingers on Eddie’s hips and groans. Making Eddie come untouched, even though he’s been stimulated for hours, still fills Richie with a dirty and possessive satisfaction. 

He sucks in a deep breath and jackhammers forward twice more before he’s coming in Eddie again.

The ripples of water over both their bodies is soothing in the quiet of the aftermath. Richie holds Eddie up, and even after another orgasm, snaps into caretaker mode as soon as he feels human again. He pushes a soft hand through the hair at the nape of Eddie’s neck. 

“Y’okay, Eds?” Eddie hums, hands still lazily pressed to the door. 

“ _Yeah_ , yeah,” he says, sounding exhausted, “I have no idea how I’m going to walk out of here.” 

Richie smiles and kisses at his back, red from the spray of the water. 

“Oh, I’ll happily carry you over this threshold, too, Spaghetti,” Richie says, and Eddie is just tired enough to laugh. 

Richie doesn’t quite carry him, but he cleans him up, helps him put on pajamas even though it’s 3pm, and plants him on the couch for the rest of the evening. Eddie doesn’t protest, and Richie thinks it’s probably because they’re on vacation, but Eddie’s smiles come easy the rest of the night. 

  
  


Richie makes them mac and cheese for dinner because Eddie’s far too tired to cook. Eddie eats it in big spoonfuls, wrapped head to toe in a blanket, and Richie presses a kiss to his cheeks every chance he gets.

Later that night, they’re halfway through a movie, a bucket of popcorn almost empty between them, when Eddie turns to Richie with a sly smile. 

“You really liked when I called you sir, huh?” 

Richie almost chokes on a kernel, suddenly caught at the back of his throat. Eddie chuckles and steals the last piece. 

“Thought so.”


	2. i get so lost in your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie wakes to the sound of rain gently pattering against the window above their bed and a pleasant unfurling of pressure in his abdomen. It takes him a second to realize Eddie’s mouth is around his cock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thank you for returning, good to have you back. This took a little longer than I wanted because I accidentally wrote 17k of a While You Were Sleeping Reddie AU that I have yet to finish. Wanted to get this out first for you lovely people. So happy holidays, ring in the new year (almost) with some porn and fluff!!

Richie wakes to the sound of rain gently pattering against the window above their bed and a pleasant unfurling of pressure in his abdomen. It takes him a second to realize Eddie’s mouth is around his cock. 

Everything is warm and syrupy, Richie eyes are still blurry, his limbs still crunchy and tired, but Eddie’s jaw is relaxed around him, like he’s been at this awhile, head ducked under the sheets. 

“ _Eds_ ,” Richie groans, scrambling to find his glasses on the table, luckily within reach, and lifting the sheet to expose him. He nearly comes at the sight. 

Eddie’s hair is a mess, his cheeks an adorable pink flush, his eyes heavily lidded, like he’s high. He licks a dirty circle around the head of Richie’s dick and then eases off.

“Morning,” he says, and Richie reaches to cup a hand around Eddie’s chin. Eddie turns his face and kisses at his fingers.

“Is this Vacation Edward? Because I could get used to it,” Richie says, pressing at Eddie’s mouth, slipping a thumb in at the edge. Eddie swipes his tongue over the pad of it and Richie’s cock twitches, hard against Eddie’s cheek. He’s glad he put on his glasses for this.

“M’not sure,” Eddie says, low and ragged, “but your morning wood had something to do with it.” 

“Oh yeah?” Richie mumbles, feeling smug, his face heating as Eddie fits his erection back in his mouth. “Must’ve been the dirty little fucker in my dream, getting me all hot and bothered.”

Eddie moans around him. Richie sinks into it, the vibrations shivering at his thighs, Eddie’s hands stroking at the hair around his hard cock. The outline of him is obvious through the skin of Eddie’s cheek and Richie feels light-headed, tries to gulp down air to no avail. There’s not enough oxygen in the world. 

Eddie’s always been good at this. Well, maybe not _always_. But he’s a quick study. 

Richie had given four and a half blowjobs before they got together, two of them what he would call _good_ , but his overwhelming attraction to Eddie made it that much easier to improve the skill. 

When Eddie got his mouth around Richie for the first time, kneeling at the edge of the bed, hands under Richie’s thighs, Richie had come in less than a minute flat, barely able to push Eddie off before ruining his favorite sleep shirt. Eddie didn’t have any experience with dicks when he and Richie finally stopped being stubborn, miserable idiots and became romantic and vulnerable idiots a few years ago. Richie assumed he would have to coax him out of his hyper-vigilant and deep shell, and to a certain extent, he did. Eddie still has hang ups, but he’s come such a long way. Every time he lets another wall down, Richie falls more in love. 

Some weird, horny love that he didn’t truly understand until Eddie looked up at him with dark eyes, a month into their relationship and whispered, “Will you just get _in_ me already?”

It’s all been uphill from there. 

A long, dirty, bumpy, really fucking satisfying hill.

Richie watches Eddie’s pinched brow and red mouth, stretched and slipping around him, and wants to die from happiness. The beat of his heart matches the thrumming of rain over the roof of their cabin. The bed is big enough to swallow them both, mountains of pillows and blankets and sheets cradled around them, thrown haphazard in the night and indented with their shapes. It’s sleepy and slow and luxurious - the kind of morning usually saved for special weekends and the occasional holiday. Eddie usually books them to the hilt, always willing to take time to spend with their friends when they can. But this morning he seems content to take his sweet time. 

Gentle hands move all over Richie’s thighs and stomach. Richie doesn’t love the pudge of his belly, but he knows Eddie does. He strokes over it lovingly, his eyes following the movement, and Richie sighs, barely able to look up from where his head lays on the pillow. His cock slides through Eddie’s lips with ease, and the combination of his hands, his eyes and his tongue is almost too much. Then Eddie digs a hand under his ass and lifts. Richie pulls his leg up and Eddie fits it over his shoulder. 

Richie feels spread out and on display. The thought of getting fucked once again flits through his mind as Eddie’s presses up on his elbows, taking Richie in deeper. Eddie doesn’t like to deep-throat, and Richie is fine with that, gets his fair share of fucking Eddie’s ass to make up the difference, so he reaches to cling to Eddie’s shoulder and whatever semblance of control still exists in his body. 

It all flies out the window when he hears a small click and sees Eddie pulling their bottle of lube from the shadows of under the bedding. Richie practically keens, shifting his sweaty calf on Eddie’s shoulder. 

Eddie frees his mouth and smiles. 

“Was this what you were dreaming about?” he asks, and Richie’s heart flutters but it comes out of his mouth like a laugh.

“Not exactly, but you’re getting there.” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow and wraps a hand around Richie’s dick to lead it back between his lips. His other hand drops the lube and then he presses a thumb to the skin behind Richie’s balls. 

“ _Fuck_ , Eddie.” 

He comes off again with a sleepy grin, as if doe-eyed innocence is an option after waking up early to suck the life out of his husband. Richie thinks this might be what death actually feels like. 

“I think I know what you want,” Eddie says, and Richie licks his lips to get the words out.

“You’re the _worst_.” 

Eddie just hums and grabs at the bottle of lube again. He ducks his head to lick a stripe across Richie’s balls, and Richie almost kicks him in the head. 

“Richie, jesus, you’re gonna kill me,” he says, pouring some lube over his fingers. “And not in a sexy way, in a you’re-seriously-going-to-kill-me way.” 

“Can you shut up and finger me?” 

“I’ll do what I want, you bastard.” 

“You want _me_ , Eds, this is our honeymoon, don’t try to play aloof. Everyone and their mother knows you want a piece of this.” He lifts both hands to point at himself. “And if your mother had anything to say about it-”

Eddie smacks his palm hard against the inside of Richie’s thigh and then pushes his thumb back to the rim of Richie’s hole. It’s an assault on all his senses. His leg jerks like he’s at the doctor and they’ve conked his knee with that little metal hammer. 

“I thought you were a morning person,” he says, Eddie’s finger inching inside him, because it’s way too much, he’s way too fucking happy and he needs to douse this situation in levity or he’s going to float out to sea, never to be seen again. Cause of death: morning blowjob and his husband’s beautiful brown eyes watching as he falls apart. 

“You’re able to make me grumpy at all hours of the day,” Eddie says back. He’s switched to his pointer finger now, actually putting in the effort, and it slides into Richie with ease. Richie loves lube, it makes everything painless, and all he feels is that strange stretch and Eddie’s breath on the inside of his thigh. “Shit, you look good, though.”

Richie blows something like a raspberry and hitches up his other knee to further spread out. “You always say that.” 

“Yeah, cause it’s fucking _true_ ,” Eddie says, on the right side of a moan, and his finger moves a little faster. It’s almost at a full stroke, and Richie’s hips tip into it. “You’re stupid hot, Richie. Why do you think I had to suck your cock as soon as I saw you this morning?” 

Richie just blushes, overwhelmed with the compliment and the feel of Eddie gentling through his insides, but Eddie keeps going.

“I know you don’t think so, but you’re pretty fucking sexy. And this?” Eddie grips around his dick again, kissing at the head. Richie groans and fucks down harder onto his finger. “Literally the answer to all my dreams.” 

Richie feels another finger edging at his hole, and Eddie slips it in along the other after a few seconds. It adds to the slick thrusting while Eddie licks along the sides of Richie’s cock. The whole of Richie’s pelvis is on fire, along with his abdomen, and he has a hard time remembering to breathe once Eddie takes him back in his mouth and groans. 

They melt together like that for awhile. Two fingers is Richie’s sweet spot, just enough to feel something and not enough to make him want more. He’s way too close to actually get fucked this morning, he can feel the stirrings of his orgasm building up, and Eddie is rutting against the sheets like he’s about to go off. 

Then Eddie pulls off to take a breath and says, “Fuck, I want to fuck you later. Can I fuck you?” 

Richie almost passes out, but instead his whole body shivers, clenching down around Eddie’s fingers. Eddie makes a garbled noise and swallows him down almost to the root. 

He’s never going to be used to Eddie wanting him like this, seeing through him and offering him what’s been on his mind for weeks. Verbalizing that shit is hard and Richie still isn’t great at it. He can dirty talk circles around anyone but letting Eddie know he wants to be at his mercy, be held down and fucked within an inch of his life, is not something that rolls off the tongue without a great deal of anxiety. 

But Eddie always listens and understands. Kisses him deep and gives him what he wants. Puts all his energy into making Richie feel good. Curls his fingers to press against Richie’s prostate and holds the tip of Richie’s dick in the opening of his mouth so he can come on his tongue. 

“I’m there, I’m there,” Richie says, a broken whimper, barely audible over the sound of their disjointed panting. Breathing hard through his nose and humping desperately at the mattress, Eddie groans, amused, already waiting on him, and Richie comes apart at the sound. 

Eddie lets Richie’s twitching hips take over the bulk of the movement while he swallows what Richie gives him, and Richie thrusts a few times into the tight slick of his mouth until he spends himself completely. Eddie keeps suckling at him, and Richie whines when his tongue flicks under the head. 

“Let me gooooo,” he says, and Eddie makes another rude noise around him. He slowly extracts his fingers and finally lets Richie’s softening cock free. 

“Jesus, I love your dick,” Eddie says, pumping at it a few times with his fist. 

“It loves you, too,” Richie says, his chest still heaving. “Did you come?” He looks up to see a blush tinting at Eddie’s cheeks. 

“We should probably throw the sheets in the wash.” 

Indeed, between Richie’s legs, there’s an impressive wet spot. Richie shivers again. It’s all too much. 

Eddie crawls off the bed to wash his hands and Richie watches the blurry silhouette of him until he realizes he knocked his glasses off in the sleepy chaos. He reaches up to find them, shoves them on just in time to see a glimpse of Eddie’s bare ass walking away. He flops back onto his pillow and smiles. What a way to wake up. 

The rain doesn’t let up all day. 

Richie is ecstatic. 

Eddie’s sitting by the fake fireplace and reading a book when he gets out of the shower, so he grabs the car keys and puts on his shoes. 

“You want me to come with you?” Eddie asks from the big comfy chair. Another circular window is next to him on the wall. The plants sway in the wind but the downpour has tapered off into heavy rain, and Richie is pretty sure Eddie will complain if he pitches mac and cheese for a second meal in a row. He shakes his head.

“Nah, you stay all tucked up here, cutie.” He leans down to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. 

“What did I tell you about the names?” 

“You can’t possibly expect me to stop now, we have so much of the trip left,” Richie says, pouting. The names roll off his tongue, and with absolutely no one around, he thought he’d get off a few hundred in their time together. 

“Don’t push me, asshole,” Eddie says, but he puts a hand around Richie’s arm to pull him closer. Richie hovers over him and Eddie’s able to get a real kiss in. 

It’s slow and gentle and warm and Richie wants to return the favor from this morning, take his book and put it on the table, go down to his knees on the carpet and spread Eddie’s legs open, hold Eddie down with his hands on his hips and his mouth on his cock. But then Eddie pushes a hand at his chest and Richie remembers he has things to do. 

“Okay, okay, I’m going, I’m going,” he groans.

“I’ll be here,” Eddie says as he’s heading out the door. Richie looks back and winks, and Eddie sticks out his tongue. 

When he gets back with the fixings for breakfast, Eddie tears himself out of his chair and starts chopping up potatoes and peppers. Richie pulls Bill’s newest book out of his suitcase and cracks it open at the counter. They eat and drink coffee and turn on the speaker so there’s a low thrum of music throughout the day. 

Eddie brought puzzles, so he starts one after they eat. Richie gets too frustrated with puzzles, he doesn’t have the attention span, so he watches from the chair as Eddie sits on the floor and stares at the pieces with wide eyes. He’s halfway through constructing a picture of a train when he yawns and stretches. 

“You should take a nap,” Richie suggests, and Eddie waves him off.

“I don’t do naps.” 

“Well you can’t do the puzzle with your eyes closed. That train definitely won’t make it out of the station.” 

Eddie looks over to the big, rumpled bed and wrinkles up his mouth, like he’s thinking about it. Richie’s perfectly happy where he is, doing exactly what he’s doing. Bill’s actually a good writer and Mike mentioned some time ago that his endings have improved in the past couple years. He’s halfway through the novel and he likes the idea of sipping on reheated coffee and demolishing this thing in one day. He sits up and leans over so he can ruffle at Eddie’s hair. Eddie ducks away and then stands. 

“I guess I could give it a shot. I haven’t had caffeine in a few hours.” 

Richie nods. It’s endearing how hesitant he is - Eddie’s not good at letting himself rest. 

“I’ll wake you up whenever you want. Scout’s honor,” Richie says, crossing some sort of shape over his heart, he doesn’t know what those guys do, always seemed like a fucking cult to him. Eddie rubs at his eyes. 

“You’re not gonna let me sleep til dark?” Eddie asks. Richie checks his watch. It’s barely past one. 

“I’ll get you up and we’ll make dinner. And by we I mean you, because I think I proved I’m off food duty for the rest of the week.” Eddie smiles at him and Richie tries not to think about the hot dogs. It all turned out fine, no need to dwell. He’s got a few more things up his sleeve, and they’re both foolproof. Richie might not be able to cook or plan, but he sure as hell knows what makes Eddie happy. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna do that veggie lasagna you love with eggplant,” Eddie says, excited. 

“I’ll shovel that down while we watch one of those dumb movies you brought. And then I can kick your ass at Mario Kart.” 

Eddie’s eyes light up. Almost all the stress of regular life seems like it’s bled from his shoulders. Even the thought of a nap would have been rejection city for him a few days ago, and now he’s actually about to crawl into bed. Richie’s heart isn’t going to make it through this week. 

“This place has the hook ups?” Eddie asks.

“Hell yeah, I called them ahead of time and everything. Had to bring all my own cords, but it’s worth it to annoy the shit out you with Peach’s victory speeches.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. He peels out of his shirt and Richie’s eyes drift over his chest. His stomach churns happily. It’s been years and Eddie still gets him going. It doesn’t feel normal, but they’re anything but normal, and he can’t imagine ever thinking Eddie isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever seen. 

“We’ll fucking see. I could wake up from this nap the strongest and most skilled version of myself. Maybe it’s my hidden secret power,” Eddie says, peeling back the sheets of the bed to crawl inside. Richie turns down the volume on his phone so the music quiets a bit. 

“Only one way to find out, beautiful.” 

Eddie just grumbles into his pillow and Richie falls back into his book. He doesn’t notice he’s smiling until almost ten minutes later. 

  
  


Eddie wakes up refreshed, which is surprising, but the nap doesn’t improve his Mario Kart skills, which is not. 

It’s too early for dinner, so Richie throws together a bowl of fruit, mostly because Eddie hates to lose, which he absolutely will, and not having eaten will make him even grumpier. 

Richie knows the N64 Mario Kart backwards and forwards, played it to death in college and refuses to try any of the updated versions. Eddie played it with him for the first time when they found each other again, one night when they were both up, hearts pounding and hands shaking from the nightmares, and it helped give them something else to focus on. Plus, it was an excuse to lean in close to Eddie on the couch, slap at his thigh while they teased each other, and pull him into a headlock when Eddie beat him on _one_ course. 

They’ve played it a lot over the years, usually as stress relief. It turns out being competitive is foreplay for them, go figure, but then again, Richie wonders what _doesn’t_ get them in the mood. 

“There’s no way you can beat me at this point,” Richie says, pointing at their displayed stats. Eddie grimaces. 

“Never say never.” 

Richie guffaws. “Eds, it’s impossible!” Eddie just pops a grape in his mouth and crunches down.

“Are you saying we should stop?” he says, muffled.

“No,” Richie says, starting them on another course. “I just need you to verbally acknowledge that I once again reign supreme.” 

Eddie tightens his grip on his controller and stares at the television with an angry fervor. He only wins five out of eighteen races, but that’s more than usual. Richie is strangely proud and definitely not worried he’s getting better.

Richie follows Eddie around the kitchen while he makes dinner and slowly does the dishes as they chat. Eddie fills him in about the last few weeks at work. Richie tries out some new material, but he just wrote it, so it’s not complete and a lot of it doesn’t make sense. Eddie laughs anyway, talks him through some things and it feels a little more natural with a long way to go. 

They watch another movie after they quickly clean their plates, and Eddie falls against the curve of Richie’s chest on the couch like it was made for him. It was, as far as Richie is concerned. He throws a blanket over them even though they don’t need it, and Eddie tangles their legs together. 

The movie is long and a bit boring, but Eddie is enthralled until the last twenty minutes. Eddie’s true assessment of a movie doesn’t usually hit him until it’s over. He’ll watch any piece of shit like it’s gold. Then when the credits roll, his eyes get waxy like it’s all dawning on him, a delayed whirl of emotions. Richie loves to watch it happen. He’ll gladly listen to all of Eddie’s unhindered thoughts as soon as they come. Eddie’s normally hilarious, but his long-winded and disturbing passion for what constitutes acceptable story-telling leaves Richie wheezing from laughter. 

Tonight, Eddie is practically conked out by the time the movie’s over. Richie would be disappointed, but the weight of a sleepy, pliable Eddie against him is hardly something worth complaining about. It’s not late, but Richie thinks all the exhaustion from the past few years has finally hit him, ready to pour out now that he’s taking a break. 

Richie’s heart seizes a little. He presses a kiss into Eddie’s hair. Eddie makes a tiny snuffling noise and shifts in his hold. 

“Time is it?” he mumbles, and Richie shrugs. 

“Does it matter?” he asks, because it really doesn’t. It’s dark and Eddie is tired, that seems reason enough to sleep. “Let’s go to bed.” 

“Hmmm,” Eddie says, then gets up to make it happen. 

They brush their teeth and Richie pushes Eddie up against the mirror to kiss him breathless and they’re both so sleepy Eddie can barely open his eyes to make it to the bed. Richie drags him there instead, and they fall asleep curled up, facing each other, holding hands. 

Richie wakes first and gets stupidly choked up when he sees Eddie buried in blankets, hand still reached out toward him. 

He had another dream last night. He was on stage, but he can’t recall anything he was saying. Eddie was sat in the front row, smiling up at him, drowning in a spotlight. Richie was holding a microphone close to his lips, grinning like a jackass, and Eddie started laughing. 

The audience seemed empty. Or maybe it was brimming full, Richie can’t remember. 

It was much tamer than the night before. In that one he had Eddie all to himself, he knew that for sure. There were only snippets, weird little screen grabs of deep kisses and their bodies pressed together, moving on the bed. At one point Eddie’s tongue was inside him, then Richie was fucking him, and then they were just naked and sliding and close. There was no narrative or semblance of sense but it felt _great_ , and if he hadn’t woken up with his dick in Eddie’s mouth he probably would have gotten them there fast. He hasn’t had dreams this satisfying since, well. Ever. 

Richie gets up, ready to make a pot of coffee and start on the day of events. He tries to shake the dream off, but the butterflies are still in his stomach when Eddie shuffles out into the kitchen a few minutes later. 

“Want me to make some eggs and toast?” 

“Mhm,” Richie hums, crouched over the sink, washing the dishes again. He likes the simple and monotonous action of it. He often finds the tension flowing out of his shoulders while he’s working to scrub something off a plate.

Eddie pours them both cups of coffee and starts on the food. 

“What’s on that elusive plan for today?” he asks, and Richie turns to look at him. 

“Thought we’d drive into town. There’s a highly rated local Thai place for lunch and a couple huge antique shop-thrift store things,” he says. Eddie sips at his coffee and pushes some turkey bacon around in a pan. Richie hates turkey bacon, but Eddie cooks most everything, so he tries to keep jokes to a minimum. He fails regularly. 

“So we’re going shopping? Like a couple of middle-aged moms?” 

Richie laughs. “I was thinking more like two handsome and appropriately-aged men enjoying the wonders of knick-knack heaven. Or hell, depending on who you ask.” He dries off a plate and then his hands so he can grab the eggs out of the fridge for Eddie. 

“I’m up for it,” Eddie says, smirking, and takes the eggs. Richie stares into the pan.

“I thought you were just doing toast and eggs?”

Eddie shrugs, flipping a piece of bacon. “Mind your business.” 

  
  


Mike wasn’t kidding about the size of the antique shops in town. Each one of them is multi-leveled and packed full, and it takes them most of the day to make their way through both. 

The first is clearly older. It extends from a dark and dingy basement up to a third floor. Neither Eddie nor Richie can peg a theme for any of the floors, and every time they think they’ve landed on one there’s a whole new room of outliers to skew the average. Four rooms are full of doll houses, but then the last only holds steel workers memorabilia from the 1930’s. It’s disarming, to say the least.

Eddie moves through both houses at a steady pace, eyes full of fierce determination coupled with giddy wonder. Richie follows closely behind, pointing out weird shit and picking up as many things as he can. Eddie’s gotten sick of scolding him, they’ve been to a million of these places, and he knows it won’t dissuade Richie from trying to make him laugh. Plus it works almost seventy-five percent of the time and Richie likes them odds. 

They haven’t been on many trips together, but they do visit their friends quite a lot. And that means driving through weird towns, big and small, and finding spots to entertain themselves. Richie gets antsy if he’s in the car too long, so Eddie plots spots along the way and it breaks up the time nicely. It’s also how they end up at so many goddamn antique shops. 

Antique shops are creepy. Richie knows it deep down in his soul. He’s been in a lot of them, a hesitant expert that still gets chills when he forces himself through the entrance. 

Eddie hates and loves antique shops. Richie finds it mostly cute but also vaguely contradictory, and that’s a pretty good way to describe a lot of Eddie’s favorite things. He loves old things, things that have “seen shit,” as he puts it, things that have been loved. Things that have history. But he’s also spent literal hours of his life dedicated to complaining about them. And Richie’s spent just as many hours listening to him.

“There’s no way they can effectively dust in an area like this,” Eddie says. He brought his fanny pack today, and he retrieves his patented dust hanky from it more than a dozen times while they’re there. “All of these pieces are _small_ and fragile. You would have to be continuously cleaning.” He’s swiping at various shelves and then recoiling when his fingers come back caked in grime. 

Richie watches him, bemused and clutching at a ceramic duck with the same expression. 

“Eddie you’re stuck in a loop of the same rant,” Richie says, but Eddie doesn’t hear him.

“And don’t even get me started on the amount of mold in these places.” 

“You already started on the mold. As soon as we walked in here. You are miles past starting on the mold.” 

“It bears repeating. This place is- oh _yes_ ,” Eddie says, eyes latching to a whole display of salt and pepper shakers across the room. 

“Ding ding ding!” Richie toots. He sees Eddie start to scour the shelves, all the way up to the ceiling, and twists to stretch out his back. This means they can get lunch soon. Salt and pepper shakers are the main act. 

“This one is awful,” Eddie says, pointing out a particularly racist one, and Richie hisses. 

“Yikes.” Richie walks up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. “You always point out the worst ones.” 

Eddie laughs and picks up something that looks like a corn cob. 

“This one is by itself but I don’t know that I really want it,” Eddie says, sounding sad. Richie grunts quietly and hugs Eddie closer. 

When Richie finally convinced Eddie to move to LA, he shipped most of his stuff from New York and made quick work of all the boxes. Richie didn’t help, Eddie hates the way he unpacks in general and he certainly wouldn’t have survived unpacking Eddie’s old things, so Richie cut the boxes open and left the rest to Eddie. That’s how they discovered the box full of errant salt and pepper shakers together. 

Eddie had spent most of his life finding lonely halves of salt and pepper sets and taking them in, creating an orphanage of weird and mostly useless vintage kitchen pieces, which he didn’t display but did keep in a drawer until he could find the match. Richie was surprised he actually had found quite a few over the years, but never his favorite. Never his oldest. 

It was a small, tan bear. It looked perfectly average to Richie, Eddie had far more interesting pieces in his collection and Richie sometimes liked to look through them until he got too scared and had to take a break. There was the egg with the wide smile, the frog with the top hat and long socks, and Richie’s worst nightmare: the baby doll with gloved hands. Why the _fuck_ did a baby need gloves? It haunted him. 

The bear was just a cute, curled up thing, its arms reaching out, three holes at the top of its body. Richie didn’t understand it, but Eddie said it was his favorite because he found it first, and something about that was adorable enough for Richie to accept it hook, line and sinker. That was, until he found the matching bear while on the road a few months ago. 

Richie was missing Eddie like a phantom limb, as he usually did while away from home. 

His driver’s car had broken down in some backass town. Richie couldn’t help the rise of panic in his throat when he saw all the conservative signs in everyone’s lawns as he walked “downtown” to find something to eat. He ducked into a thrift shop after scarfing down a sandwich from a local deli and spent almost two hours there. It was quiet and everyone left him alone, and eventually the panic subsided. 

Then he found it. 

It was a little bigger than the one Eddie cherished, but the coloring was an exact match and its arms were equally outstretched, searching for its mate. Richie brought it up to the counter, bought it for five dollars, and wrapped it in an extra t-shirt in his bag to keep it safe. He wanted to give it to Eddie for his next birthday, but their trip came sooner, and when he found it in his sock drawer while packing he shoved it in the leg of his pajama pants in his suitcase just in case the mood struck him. 

He’s spent the whole day on edge, worried Eddie will somehow find a match before he can give him the one waiting in their luggage. And this was his fucking idea. Never. Planning. Again. 

Eddie turns in his grip, the small corn cob held gently in his hands. Richie leans down and kisses his nose. 

“Don’t laugh at me. It’s only forty cents.” 

Richie still doesn’t get it, but he nods anyway. Eddie kisses his chin and moves out of his arms. 

“It’s literally just an ear of corn. It doesn’t even have a weird face,” Richie calls after him.

“I can’t explain it!” Eddie cries as he heads to the cash register. 

The Thai place is indeed delicious. Richie can’t handle much spice, but Eddie orders his own food hot. Richie watches him squirm and sweat profusely as he finishes up his smooth coconut soup. When Eddie’s done, he wipes his forehead with the hanky. 

“That was amazing,” he says, and Richie beams. 

The afternoon is a lot of the same, but the second place is a little bit smaller. It’s spread out over more space, and parts of it are even outside, everything tucked into wardrobes on someone’s lawn. Eddie doesn’t have a chance to complain about the dust, but he does wonder how they keep everything from warping in the humidity. When dinner time rolls around, Richie is relieved to see Eddie approach him at the check-out without anything to buy. He tries to keep his cool and wraps Eddie up in a hug. 

“I really thought finding a match during the trip would be-” Eddie starts, tensing in Richie’s arms. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” Eddie says, and Richie snorts. 

“Were you going to say… _romantic_?” Richie asks, and Eddie burrows further against his chest. He sighs heavily and Richie can feel the heat of his breath through his shirt. 

“That bear’s been missing his partner for _years_ , I’m sorry I thought this was some stupid kismet.” 

Richie kisses the top of his head, his temple, shoves his arm around Eddie’s waist and tries to keep his fucking mouth shut while his heart does gymnastics against his rib cage. 

“Never say never,” he says. 

They’re driving back when Richie remembers the joints he rolled for the trip. 

“Hey, you wanna pick up a pizza and smoke together?” he asks, and Eddie squeezes at his hand where they’re locked together over the center console. 

“You know what smoking does to me.” 

Richie wiggles his eyebrows and Eddie plugs the address for the pizza place into Richie’s phone. 

Half of the pizza is gone by the time they light the joint, seated across the small patio table from each other. Richie makes sure to smoke off the excess paper from the tip before handing it to Eddie. Eddie’s still only done this a handful of times, but he’s getting better, no longer flinching when he takes his first puff. They both cough a bit and then settle into a patterned rhythm of passing it back and forth. Richie watches the smoke billow against the lights shining from inside. 

“This place is nice,” he says, thinking out loud. Eddie tips his head. 

“I sleep well here.” 

“I’ve been having nice dreams,” Richie says, agreeing. He takes a long drag. His limbs are starting to feel heavy. There’s a happy fog around Eddie’s face and Richie almost giggles. 

“So you said yesterday,” Eddie says. The circle of his lips pull at the end of the joint. Richie swallows and forgets they were talking. “You like my mouth?” 

Richie nods. Eddie smiles. 

“What else?” he asks. Richie watches him in the dim light. He looks fucking delicious, content and lazy, his hands searching for Richie’s legs under the table. He always gets so touchy when he’s high. Richie loves it. 

“What else do I like about you?” Richie asks, two thousand answers already populating his mind. Eddie nods and shakes off some extra ash into the glass bowl they brought out with them. 

“Tell me,” Eddie says. His voice is low and curious, and Richie’s breathing picks up. 

“Can I say everything, or are you looking for detailed specifics here?” 

Eddie stares at him and Richie shifts in his seat. _Fuck_ , getting high might make Eddie touchy but it makes Richie _horny_. And who can blame him when Eddie’s looking at him like that, eyes heavy with intent and voice deep and enchanting? 

God, it also makes him cheesy. 

“I’ll start,” Eddie says, holding the joint between his fingers like he’s a 50’s starlet. The line of smoke would usually be enough to distract Richie, but he’s hanging on Eddie’s every word. “Your shoulders.” 

“My _shoulders_?” Richie asks, incredulous.

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie says, his voice floaty. 

Richie shivers. “Wow, okay. I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“They’re so broad,” Eddie says, gesturing around the shape of them, clenching his fingers like he’s grinding meat. “When you’re over me, all big and strong, _guh_.” Eddie sounds close to drooling, and Richie scoffs out some smoke. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never told me this before,” he says with a laugh, but Eddie’s eyes are unfocused and wild. 

“And when I’m fucking you? Good god, your shoulders look…” Eddie trails off and suddenly focuses on Richie. 

Richie knows he can’t possibly look sexy right now, saliva caging his tongue, mouth dropped open, his thighs twitching with surprise and arousal. It’s the second time Eddie’s mentioned fucking him in the past few days, and no matter how often they do it, it always knocks him sideways. Eddie loves it, and so does Richie, but that’s the problem. 

Or maybe not a problem - but definitely a _thing_. An intense, ridiculous thing that usually has Richie orbiting the nearest moon, and it doesn’t take much. One octave drop in Eddie’s voice and Richie is waiting to bend over. 

So he puts the joint out, feeling high and tingly, and leans forward in his chair. 

“I think it’s my turn,” he says, trying to keep it together, “and I’m gonna start with your arms.” 

Eddie lifts one up, smiling at his bicep. “My arms?” 

“Yep. They’re tiny and powerful.”

“You’re an asshole.” He rolls his eyes and Richie grins. 

“Seriously,” Richie starts, clearing his throat from the gunk of the weed, “they’re fuckin’ hot.” It looks like Eddie is blushing, and even if it’s not true, Richie chooses to believe it.

“What do you like about them?” 

“Goddamn, you’re greedy, Eds,” Richie says, laughing, moving to light the joint back up. He wants to finish it after all. He has a feeling they won’t make it back out onto the porch tonight. Eddie looks willing, so he brings the filter to his mouth and flicks the lighter. 

“If my penchant for dirty talk has escaped your notice then you’re dumber than I thought,” Eddie says. 

“You’re getting gutsier every day, Spaghetti. Color me impressed,” Richie says, leering. 

“You bring it out in me, Trashmouth.” Eddie winks and takes another hit when Richie hands it to him. Close up, Richie can see how blown his pupils are, and it makes his stomach drop. The words stop sticking. 

“I love when you wrap your arms around me, cling to me like I’m the only thing in the world,” Richie starts, and just keeps falling, “I love how your arms look when you’re using them to yell at me, gesturing all wild like some sort of deranged monkey. I love when your arms are on either side of me, all clenched and sweaty and holding yourself up,” Richie says, and the joint’s hanging between Eddie’s fingers, forgotten. 

“Sometimes they go up into your hair while you’re riding me and I can lick at your big, dumb muscles.” Richie reaches to his hair like he’s demonstrating. “Or I can grab at them to force you onto me harder.” Eddie hisses and Richie’s face feels like it’s on fire. “But I also like your hands.” 

Eddie stretches out his fingers against the table, like he’s showing them off, but Richie knows he’s high. They’re both high, both stuck in this humid moment, the air thick between them like they’re caught in a sleeping bag. 

“You like my hands on you?” Eddie asks. Richie bites at the inside of his lip. 

“You bet, gorgeous. I like a lot of things about you,” he says, and it feels like giving it all away, but Richie’s pretty sure he’s done that many times over in this relationship. “All of the things, actually, so it’s hard to narrow it down.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes and gets up. Richie almost gasps, but then he remembers there’s a giant bed inside, and that’s probably where Eddie is going to lead him, and he springs up onto his feet, too. Eddie wraps his arms around Richie’s waist in a hug. 

“You can’t let me flirt with you without getting sappy, it’s fucking annoying,” Eddie says, and Richie squeezes him back hard. 

“Oh, that was you flirting?” Richie asks, and standing makes the high much more obvious. 

“You also never know when I’m flirty. Or maybe I just suck at it,” Eddie says, turning to open the side door into the bedroom from the patio. Richie follows him. 

“You’re definitely not _good_ , since I had to make the first move.” 

Eddie turns on him as he’s closing the door. 

“You did _not_ make the first move,” he says, pointing a finger straight into Richie’s ribs. “I kissed you!” 

“Yeah, but I was giving you heavy eye contact.” 

Eddie opens his mouth, chest heaving, hand mid-air, then visibly stops himself. 

“I am not having this argument again. Not now,” he says, and Richie is halfway to a laugh when he adds, “Take off your pants and get on the bed, I want to make out with you. My lips are tingling and your hair looks horrible. You’re fucking cute.” 

Richie blinks comically, but he strips off his pants and flops onto his back on the bed. “I swear to god, Eds, call me cute _one_ more time and I will do anything you want for literally the rest of our lives.”

Eddie groans. He hates when cheesy things pour from his mouth, but Richie really fucking loves it, and it feels like they have some sort of weird balance there in the middle. It’s not like Eddie doesn’t say sweet things to him. But sometimes it looks like he didn’t even know they were coming.

Eddie climbs on top of him, skating a kiss over his left pec first, and then following it up with the space behind his ear, and then his mouth, and Richie loses track of everything at the feel of his lips. Eddie’s feeling it, feeling his high and the high bead of arousal Richie knows bolts through him after they smoke. 

The kiss is wet and _slow_. It drags over both of them with rough edges, and Richie almost moans, even though it’s been about ten seconds. He’s a fucking goner, and if his hands weren’t busy scrabbling at every bit of Eddie he can reach, he’d do that Scout’s honor bullshit again over his heart and swear to whatever the hell let him have this for the rest of his sorry life. 

It takes him way too long to press up at the hem of Eddie’s shirt to take it off, but then he takes off his own, too, left only in his boxers, and the crackle of electricity thrumming through him is amazing.

Eddie’s hands are curious and greedy, even though they’ve touched the planes of Richie’s body thousands of times before. His eyes follow every move, they always do. 

Richie is anything but a vain man, and when Eddie looks at him like this, he heats like someone stuck him in the microwave. 

“Turn over,” Eddie says, finally, creases in his face from cheek to chin. Richie can see them up close, can see all of him, can _feel_ all of him.

“But I like you on top of me,” Richie whines, clasping his arms around Eddie’s middle, but Eddie’s way too quick for him.

“I know,” he says, pushing at Richie’s side so he flips. Richie goes up onto all fours and crawls toward the head of the bed. He sees Eddie stand to take off his pants and turns away, already too hard for having barely started. 

On his knees, he can see out the window above the bed, and his hands curl around the ledge below it for something to hold. It’s pitch black out there save for the stars. Richie had planned on a bonfire one night, and it might still be in the cards, especially once the visitors arrive. He focuses on the stars for a few moments. It actually does help him calm down. 

When he turns back to look over his shoulder at Eddie, he’s got a hand around himself, and he’s already half hard. Richie full-on moans. So much for that.

“You look good in the moonlight too,” Eddie says, moving to join Richie on the bed.

“You can’t even see the moon from over here.” 

“It still lights up the sky,” Eddie says, naked and prowling, desperate to be right and holding a bottle of lube. Richie takes a deep breath. “Get on your stomach, dumbass.” 

Richie does as he’s told, the skin prickling at the back of his neck. He moves the pillows so they’re flush together and crosses his arms between them, cradling his head when he lays down. His legs are barely spread but he feels laid out. And somehow nervous. Eddie’s hands brush over the hair on the tops of his thighs and he jumps. 

“Calm down, Rich,” Eddie says, and this time it really is gentle. 

“Thought the weed might help relax me.” Eddie massages at his back for a second before pushing at the insides of Richie’s thighs.

“You okay? If you’d rather-”

“No,” Richie says in a rush, bouncing his legs against the mattress, suddenly a livewire of energy. “No-just. Just a little keyed up.” 

Eddie’s hands find his calves and squeeze a solid line all the way up. It helps, but Richie is so tense he groans. Eddie moves to his ass, then kneels between Richie’s legs. 

“This okay?” Eddie asks, kneading at the skin of Richie’s cheeks, and Richie buries his face in the pillows. 

“Yeah, _yeah_ , it’s okay. It’s all fine, I’m fine.” 

“You sound freaked out,” Eddie says, hands still prying him apart.

“I’m not freaked _out_ ,” Richie bites back, and Eddie smacks at his ass. Richie yelps. He pushes himself down into the sheets just for some friction. He’s already pretty hard, and Eddie is looming over him, ready to touch him and lick into him and he feels overwhelmed and really fucking _ready_ for it.

“So if I eat you out right now you’re not gonna panic?” 

Richie moans. Eddie’s fingers are back on him, teasing a line down over his hole, and it feels like there’s lube, and Richie will never get over how smooth Eddie can be, even if he’s also a total fucking idiot. 

“M’not gonna panic, but I might come before you get in me.” 

“Don’t you dare,” Eddie says, but he knows what his tongue does to Richie. That’s probably half the reason they haven’t done this too often - Richie can’t hold off once Eddie goes to town on him. And even the suggestion of fucking, Eddie pushing into him, moaning around him, all wet and dirty, makes Richie so breathless and desperate that it tips both of them over the edge quickly. 

“I can’t promise anything, Eds, now _please_ eat my ass.” 

“Okay, but. Only because I know how much you like it,” he says, and it sounds like he’s pouting. Richie laughs, a hollow sound in his chest. 

Then Eddie’s tonguing over the same line his finger made before and Richie unconsciously pushes back into his face. 

“Don’t suffocate me,” Eddie says, voice already rough, and Richie tries to bite at the pillow but the pressure just stings his teeth. 

“Don’t tell me that wouldn’t be a sexy way to die.” 

“In your ass? Not sure I’d want that on my tombstone,” Eddie says, sucking at the skin just above Richie’s hole, and Richie flinches. 

“Oh god, Eddie.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie grunts, and Richie can feel the hot breath on the most sensitive part of him, and then Eddie’s mouth closes over him completely and Richie takes two fistfuls of pillows into his hands. 

Richie makes an effort to ease the tension in the muscles in his body. This doesn’t have to overwhelm him. This doesn’t have to break him somewhere small inside each time, he can lean into this shattering feeling and let himself just _have_ this. 

Eddie hums a gentle noise through his mouth, taking his time, his hands patient and present over Richie’s legs, and Richie moans back, and soon they’re in tandem, just egging each other on like they always do, and Richie takes care not to sink into the sheets and dissolve. 

There’s a strong pressure of spit swimming in circles around his entrance and Richie hiccups out a groan, copying the motion with his hips in a bastardized version. They twitch and Eddie presses down on him, just a little, and Richie feels it in his _toes_. 

“It’s-that’s really, really good,” Richie says, because he wants Eddie to know, and Eddie comes off with a dirty slurp. Richie flushes all over. He wonders if Eddie can feel the sweat starting to bead against the skin of his thigh, where his palm rests, where he’s gripping and holding him apart. Richie cranes his head back to look at him.

“I love this,” Eddie says when he sees him, a breathy sigh, and Richie wants so badly to kiss him, his mouth red and wet, his cheeks lined deep with a smile. 

“I love you,” Richie says back, and he hopes Eddie knows he didn’t mishear. 

Eddie’s eyes get a little far off and his smile falters and he teases his tongue back out to continue. Richie shoves his face back into the pillow. The tip of Eddie’s tongue breaches him, and it only gets easier from there, and soon he’s pushing back onto Eddie’s face with an uneven rhythm and Eddie is adding a finger to the stretch. Richie can barely take it, just wants Eddie in him already. It’s what he wants tonight, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can last. 

Eddie’s pressing into him perfectly, a finger and the edge of his thumb along the slide of his mouth. Lapping and humming, the fucking _hum_ he does like he’s getting off too, and then it cracks in his throat, and Richie wants to throw him down and sit straight on his dick. 

“Stop, stop, I’m going to come if you don’t stop,” Richie says, out of breath, and Eddie pulls off with a few small kisses because he’s cute. His fingers stay there, keeping Richie safe and still. 

“You’re ready for me to fuck you?” 

Richie gets up on his knees and reaches for his faithful ledge, so Eddie’s fingers dislodge. He wants to start this way. Lying down like that, Eddie will absolutely nail his prostate. 

That’s for later. 

“Yeah, like this for now,” Richie says, unable to explain, but Eddie doesn’t need it. He knee-walks across the bed to fit right behind Richie. 

“Fuck,” Eddie says. 

“What, what?” Richie asks, shifting on his knees. 

“You’re too fucking tall, can you bend over a little?” 

Richie tips his body down at the waist, moving back a little and accidentally colliding with Eddie’s cock. Eddie hisses, Richie moans. 

“Be careful, oh my god, okay,” Eddie says, and grabs at Richie’s hips to pull him back even further. Richie’s fingertips tingle again and his whole body feels heavy. He wants Eddie to tug him around. Put him where he wants him. 

“This gonna work?” Richie asks, but really he wants to say, “can you please fuck me now?” but he feels too sex stupid and high. 

Eddie laughs a little. “I’m not sure, it might be weird, but I really wanna get in you, so let’s give it a try.” 

“H-okay,” Richie says, gasping when Eddie starts pushing into him. 

Sometimes, it’s his favorite part. The angle this time _is_ a little weird, but it’s not bad. The view of the pillows and a little bit of ledge and his own bobbing erection when he looks down far enough is _also_ weird, but it’s new, and that, for some reason, becomes exciting. He can’t see what Eddie’s doing, he can just feel him moving closer, stretching him out, and it’s suddenly crushing on Richie’s chest, how fucking hot this is. 

“That’s-yeah. Eddie,” Richie says, leaning back into it. He hears Eddie inhale sharply, a small click in his jaw, and it makes him want more. It doesn’t hurt. It’s slick from Eddie’s tongue and the lube Eddie keeps adding. When Eddie’s fully seated in him, they’re in such a back-bowed position that they both heave a laugh. There’s no way Richie can look back at Eddie like this, but he likes the sound of him, the bite of Eddie’s nails in his hips. 

Eddie kisses at a notch of Richie’s spine. Richie sighs.

“I always forget how nice this is,” Eddie says, and he sounds _wrecked_ , but he still said _nice_ , and Richie wonders why they don’t do this every single day. 

“ _Nice_ ,” he sighs. 

“Richie? You okay?” Eddie asks, cautious.

Richie nods, his hair wet at the nape of his neck, and he rubs at it, just to do something with his hands. It’s hard to narrow his thoughts into words. It’s hard not to force himself back and forth on Eddie’s dick. It’s hard to hold himself up against the wall when he’s falling apart bit by bit. 

“I’m gonna move, okay?” Eddie says, and he does, pulling out a little and then moving back in. 

“Yes, oh,” Richie punches out. 

“That good?” He does it again. 

Richie groans. “Oh god, _yeah_ , yeah, that’s nice.” 

“Nice,” Eddie repeats back, and Richie tries to laugh, but Eddie keeps pushing in deeper every time and there’s a low buzz spreading through his whole middle. 

“I’m serious, it’s-Eddie.”

“You keep saying that,” Eddie says. He reaches to hold tight against the bones of Richie’s shoulder. It makes Richie push back. He takes it easy, but god, he wants to move. He wants Eddie’s dick. Really fucking wants it. But he takes his time. 

Eddie hands are somehow on his hips and his thighs and circling around his ass and sometimes gripping him to move and sometimes stroking his cock. Richie can’t keep track, can’t really do anything but take what Eddie gives him, but he also wants to hear Eddie talk, so he tries to pull himself together. 

“Can I get back on my stomach?” he asks, and Eddie skates a hand down his back, slipping through the sweat, and then pushing a little at the center of his spine. 

“Yeah, fuck, I love this,” Eddie says, quick and dirty, and Richie snorts. 

“You keep saying _that_ ,” he says, flopping back onto the pillows, onto his stomach, after Eddie pulls out. 

“We’re circling back to the beginning, Rich, we’ve run out of dirty talk.” 

“Goddamn, I hope that’s not true,” Richie says, and he feels Eddie’s arms press into the mattress on either side of his ribs. He’s stretched in a straight line down the center of the bed, and Eddie floats above him. The heat tingles in the air between them. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck. 

“It’s definitely not,” Eddie says, hissing, pushing himself back inside, “say the same dirty shit to me for the rest of my life, baby, fuck.” 

Richie smiles. It’s wobbly and no one can see him, but he holds it against the pillows like a secret. Eddie is fucking into him already, unable to wait, and Richie can feel his thighs trembling when he spoons him on the way down. There’s no way they can keep it up for long, but Richie wants to feel this, wants Eddie’s weight on him, trapping him into the bed. 

Eddie slams in each time, but in shallow thrusts, and it’s a sliver of sparks around the edges of Richie’s hole. He wiggles his hips against the sheets and he hears Eddie moan. 

“You look so good, so fucking flushed,” Eddie says, and he’s got that voice that Richie loves. Then he remembers the conversation from earlier about his shoulders. 

He stretches his arms out a bit, as much as he can manage, to grip the sheets on either side of him. He feels his back flexing and Eddie stumbles a bit above him, a messy hand clutching his hip for balance. Then he’s grinding in deep, and Richie’s eyes roll back into his head. 

“Oh, oh,” Richie says into the pillows, “ _oh_ , oh, Eddie, oh, you’re right there.” 

“I know, I know.” 

“God, keep doing that,” Richie says, arching for it, nowhere to move, and Eddie drops his knees to the mattress between Richie’s legs. Everything is sharper, Eddie’s thick cock presses at his rim with every thrust and his thighs start to go numb. He’s punching out little sounds every time Eddie slides back in. Then Eddie slows down a bit, and Richie thinks he’s getting tired, but then he pulls out completely and taps at Richie’s thigh. 

“C’mon, come to the end of the bed,” Eddie says. Richie forces himself onto his knees again. They’re weak and unstable, but Eddie is there, hand to his chest, helping him turn around. 

His skin buzzes and he remembers he’s high. No wonder he hasn’t come yet. Even the simple friction of the sheets would usually make him blow his load with Eddie fucking into him like that. And now Eddie is looking at him with wide eyes, gone dark, pupils blown from the pot and arousal.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, sliding off the edge of the bed. Richie hears the sound of a zipper, and Eddie returns with a big, red velvet pillow-looking thing in the shape of a weird triangle.

Richie is confused and wired and ready to get fucked over the side of this bed. Eddie’s smiling at him like he’s missing something. 

“What-” and of course Eddie interrupts him, with a look like that.

“It’s a wedge. You can kneel on it, I’ll put it here-” Eddie says, placing the block pillow on the floor so it’s flush against the foot of the bed. He grabs at Richie’s hips to turn him around, and then Richie is kneeling, and the height of it is perfect. He bends over, onto his stomach on the mattress, his ass in the air, and Eddie slides in without a word. 

Perfect. 

“ _God_ ,” Richie says, overwhelmed by the feel of Eddie back in him, squirming on his dick already. 

“Yes, fuck, I’ve always wanted to do this,” Eddie says, and Richie believes him. The pull of Eddie’s hands on his hips is stunning, hard and staking a claim, and Richie’s breathless to be railed. There’s a faint memory of the sun on his back. He shakes it off and focuses on the way Eddie pulls out completely just to shove himself back in. 

“Shit, Eddie, you know I like that.”

“Yeah, you do,” Eddie says, through gritted teeth. 

“You like having me like this?” Richie asks, fevered. His hands find their hold on the sheets and he pushes back, much easier in this position. God, Eddie is brilliant. A fucking pillow. A pillow for fucking. His husband continues to be a sex genius. 

“Yeah, take it,” Eddie whispers. He’s exhaling short, deep moans in time with his thrusts. Richie’s never heard him like this, not for this long, not this intensely. It could be the weed, or maybe the fact that they’ve had sex approximately four thousand times and they’ve only been here three days, but he seems unbridled in a way that steams Richie from the inside out. He wants _more_. 

There’s leverage with his hands, and the wedge pillow seems stuck in place, so Richie puts some muscle into it and bounces himself back onto Eddie’s cock. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Eddie chokes out, and one hand peels off of Richie’s hip. Richie looks back to follow it, desperate to know what Eddie looks like doing this, fucking him so good, letting him take some control back and still giving him what he wants. 

Eddie’s got a hand gripped tight in his hair. He’s biting his lip and his eyes slip closed for a moment until he snaps them back open to stare down, to watch himself move in and out of Richie. Richie wants to know what it looks like. How it looks to see Richie stretched wide for him, taking him so well, fucking back because he wants it so bad. 

“Do I look good for you?” Richie asks instead, hoping Eddie will tell him, and he does.

“Richie, you look amazing, _uh_ , _fuck_ , you look so fucking good around me.”

“Can’t get enough,” Richie says. He just wants Eddie to know. Just wants him to know how dumbstruck he feels, how full and good and perfect he fucking feels. Eddie’s hitting his prostate in short little jerks, and it’s breaking him up and putting him back together in a delicious medley. 

“Baby,” Richie says, overcome. Eddie’s eyes find his and he groans, throwing his head back. Richie buries his face back against the mattress, too overwhelmed with it, but too fucking horny to stop. He’s pumping his ass toward Eddie as much as he can, and Eddie slips out of him and pushes back in, just to make him feel it, _again_ , and Richie almost breaks. 

“Eddie, fuck me,” he says, even though Eddie _is_ fucking him, but Eddie growls at the challenge. 

Richie feels Eddie’s hands push him, hard, forcing him off the wedge pillow and up onto the bed. He’s only able to lift up a little before he’s being pressed back down, ass in the air, the middle of his chest pinned to the bed. Eddie climbs over him and Richie can’t see, can barely hear over the dull roar in his ears, but he feels Eddie fumble into position and then he’s angling his dick down and Richie is almost _destroyed_ in one fell swoop.

“Eddie,” Richie says, his mouth practically stuffed with sheets, his ass stuffed full of Eddie’s dick as it pounds in, never pulling out too far. 

“Wanna make you come,” Eddie says, slurring, taking Richie’s hip back in his hand. He’s balancing on one knee and one foot, holding himself over Richie’s whole body where it’s shoved against the bed. 

Richie moans. He can’t possibly reach his cock, Eddie’s hand is still keeping him in place. There’s some friction with the sheets, but honestly, the thought of Eddie snapping, fucking him into the bed, not caring how ridiculous they probably look crouched over each other, is enough to make him think he might come without a hand on his dick. 

Eddie’s thrusts are picking up, and Richie whines at the deep burn of his fast fucking. He loves it, wishes he could ask Eddie for fingers, but they’re too far gone for that.

“You’re so good at fucking me,” he groans, and Eddie breathes out something shaky. Richie knows his dirty talk takes a quick turn toward nonsense when he’s being fucked, but he wants to try, wants to get Eddie rambling, wants to what he’s thinking so he can come like this. 

God, he wants to come like this. 

“You fucking love it,” Eddie grunts, and it’s more than Richie expected. His hips stutter against the sheets. This might be faster than he thought. 

“I do, god, I do, Eddie.”

“Love me over you like this. On top of you.” Eddie’s still moving in sharp kicks, and Richie feels drips of sweat roll over him, and he doesn’t care who it’s from, it’s messy and deep and Richie always wants more, more, more of everything.

“Love when you hold me down,” Richie says, feeling it start to spread through his abdomen. 

“You fucking love that, _fuck_ , I love when you take it, when you get all red ‘cause you really fucking _want_ it,” Eddie says low, sounding like he’s lost it. He usually doesn’t get this intense, and Richie loves it, wants to keep him going, but he’s about to come and he wants-

“Come on me,” he mumbles into the space between his arms, where he was able to finally bring them up, something to bite onto while Eddie’s absolutely nailing him. 

Eddie groans. “Yeah, I’ll come on your fucking shoulders.”

“Do it, do it, _please_.” 

“ _Richie_.” 

The bed is creaking with the effort of their fucking and Richie’s leg threatens to cramp but then Eddie pulls out to jerk himself off over Richie’s back and he finally has some room. Richie pushes himself up, arm almost giving out, and he pleads with it to just hold him for this, just let him touch himself while Eddie comes all over him. 

His dick is aching and hot to the touch, and he’s given it one pass through his fist when he hears Eddie groan behind him. Richie’s hips jerk again, and he still kind of wants something inside him, but then he feels Eddie’s come spilling over the stretch of his spine. Richie strokes himself faster, working hard to meet his climax, light-headed and strung out. 

“So hot,” Eddie sighs behind him. Richie feels a hand come up to rub at the wetness on his skin, rubbing it in, and he whines deep in his throat, coming all over his hand and the bed. 

“ _Shit_ ,” he says, falling onto one arm, staying up for a second until all strength leaves him and he collapses. 

It takes him awhile to come back to himself. He’s dizzy and exhausted. He feels tingly and used and he can’t fucking wait to do it again. 

He feels Eddie’s hands move over him slowly. First to soothe and spread kisses, then to clean him up and push him off the bed to dress. Richie knows he just wants to wash the sheets, since there’s extras in the closet, so he gets up and goes to the bathroom because Eddie asks, and because Eddie just fucked him so nicely he’s wobbling on his legs the whole way there.

When he comes back out, Eddie’s sitting against the headboard, pink cheeks and dopey smile on his face. 

“Well that was quite ambitious,” Richie says, and Eddie’s face falls a little. 

“Huh?”

Richie leers at him. “You. Dicking me down into the sheets.”

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly, like he’s remembering, like it didn’t just happen ten minutes ago. 

“Yeah, _oh_ ,” Richie says back. Eddie fiddles with the strings on his pants. “That was a fucking revelation. Literally.” 

Eddie blushes. “You drive me _crazy_.”

“So you’ve said.” 

“And you did that shoulder thing on purpose,” Eddie says, pointing. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Richie says, pumping his eyebrows. Eddie rolls his eyes. 

Richie climbs into bed, looking at the clock. It’s only 9pm. He feels bone-tired. As if to prove his point, he yawns, pressing his head deep into his pillow. 

“Oh thank god,” Eddie says, cuddling up to Richie’s side and pulling the sheet over them, “I’m so tired, can we just go to sleep?” 

“If you say so,” Richie says, already halfway to snoring. 

The last thing he feels is Eddie kissing his cheek. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [tinyangryeddie](https://tinyangryeddie.tumblr.com/) or Twitter, now, apparently, where I'm [camerasparring](https://twitter.com/camerasparring), but I'm new and don't expect much lol 
> 
> Thank you again for reading, and let me know if you liked it!


	3. loving you's the anecdote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie wakes to the slanted curve of the sun on his chest. His leg is numb and he has to pry Richie off of him, but it’s the best he’s ever slept in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome baaaaaaaack. This chapter was so fun to write and it's ridiculous and two people should probably NOT be having this much sex, but when you're forty and in love and on your honeymoon, you just put your lil' heart into it. 
> 
> Warnings for a little panic/anxiety attack moment and gratuitous use of italics for emphasis and boys being dumb and in love, as per usual. 
> 
> ENJOY, PEOPLE. Thank you for commenting and being sweeeeeeeet keep it up you inspire me every day ;)
> 
> As always, big ol' thanks to Heather, especially in this chapter, she had many, many good Losers ideas and I hope I did them justice.

Eddie wakes to the slanted curve of the sun on his chest. His leg is numb and he has to pry Richie off of him, but it’s the best he’s ever slept in his life. 

They had passed out promptly at ten o’clock after cuddling naked for an hour, and Richie had an arm flung over him most of the night even though the bed is humongous, so Eddie feels rested and strong and alive. He can’t wait to get a new day started. Every single one has been amazing. It’s not that he’s greedy, it’s just… yeah, he’s really fucking greedy. 

Richie has made this whole trip perfect, and Eddie has already wondered a few times if he’s imagining all of it. If he died somewhere along the way, if Richie literally fucked him to death and this is the long fever dream he’s stuck in right before his brain clicks off for real. If it is, he’s willing to ride this wave as long as the powers that be will give him. 

He stays in bed, pushing past his instincts to _do_ something, just to watch Richie sleep. 

His face is lined from his pillow and wrinkled from the years and he doesn’t really look peaceful, but he doesn’t look strained, either. Richie still has nightmares sometimes, but he’s not having one now. His eyes are relaxed and his arm is flung over his head, and Eddie resists burying his face in crook of his armpit and falling back asleep. Being gross and married and lazy together. Instead, he presses a small kiss to Richie’s cheek, careful not to wake him. 

Richie always lets him sleep, lets him take a fucking _nap_ , so Richie’s allowed to sleep as long as he wants. He takes a long, steamy shower, dries himself completely and throws on a pair of sweatpants. 

He makes his way to the kitchen. The clock says ten. Eddie almost startles. 

What the _fuck_? He slept uninterrupted for twelve hours? Jesus. 

He feels a wave of anxiety threaten to crest over him, deep from his belly, his chest going cold. 

Eddie hasn’t been on a vacation in a really long time. He’s never been someone who likes to idle for too long, and after Derry, after _Richie_ , he wasn’t sure he wanted to try. Well. He _wanted_ to try. But he’s also always been so… worried. 

Worried that not being productive and practical and making use of his time will drive him crazy and he’ll just want to leave. He doesn’t want to do that to Richie, or anyone, so he’s never really… tried. 

They probably _should_ be doing more. 

This is a waste of time, sleeping late and taking _naps_ and having-

No, he’s not going to do this. 

Eddie walks forward to the counter and presses his hands across the stone, palms down, focusing on the texture against his skin. He takes a deep breath through his nose, exhaling slowly out of his mouth, and looks out the window in the living room. 

A small bird whizzes by, but it’s mostly just the flowers, everything tilting with the breeze, out there ignorant of him and what he chooses to do while he’s on vacation. While he’s on his _honeymoon_. Fuck, and it’s been so good. So slow and happy and he’s felt light and relaxed. Richie keeps smiling at him and making him laugh and touching him like he can’t stop. 

They’re usually good, but this is a new level. A new level of good Eddie couldn’t have possibly predicted being able to achieve. Not before. Not when this voice constantly overwhelmed him, made him feel unworthy and dirty, ticking through his brain as a reminder to keep going, keep things moving. That voice doesn’t control him anymore. It makes appearances, but he can will it away. And he’s been managing really well.

He woke up late and stayed in bed to give Richie a blowjob. He stayed inside all day because his puzzle was really cool, and he wanted to put in the last piece and spread his hands over the finished product like he was gluing it together by touch. He walked around on little adventures and ate greasy food and went to bed early and let himself be quiet. 

He’s letting himself have what he wants, letting himself say sappy things. Letting himself feel sexy and wanted and strong. 

Maybe he really can handle a vacation. 

Eddie’s eyes finally feel stable enough to focus on something else after a few minutes of breathing, so he starts scooping coffee beans into the electric grinder. He’s still a little hazy, but he can feel where his bare feet press into the floor. Lost in that sensation, he presses the “on” button without considering the noise. 

It’s a loud, crunching shock in the quiet of the late morning.

Richie slides into the kitchen like he’s Tom Cruise, and Eddie almost drops the grinder from pure fright, and then from the vision of a flustered and freshly-awake Richie. His eyes are wild and he’s still completely naked, the comforter wrapped around his shoulders, and Eddie can’t get out the words to tell him everything is fine, he’s laughing too hard, so Richie just slowly shifts closer to him, and then there’s a hand pressed to Eddie’s back. 

“Eds?” Richie says, and Eddie gulps down some air.

“I’m so sorry, _shit_ ,” he says, when he goes to stand up and is, instead, met with Richie’s half-hard dick. “What the fuck, Richie, do you just wake up like that every day now?” he asks, his breath having suddenly returned to him in a lusty fervor. 

“What? You just fucking scared me awake, I was actually pretty sure that was a _chainsaw_ and you were getting full on _murdered_ , I didn’t have time to calm down-” 

“It’s okay, I like it,” Eddie says, Richie’s breath panting hard in the air between them.

“I mean, I’m sorry I thought- wait. What?”

Eddie’s hand trails down to wrap around Richie’s dick, and Richie hisses. God, it feels good in his hand. He wants it everywhere, he always does. He’s wound up from the suggestion of an anxiety attack and then the noise and laughter and he remembers the sounds Richie made underneath him last night and he looks up at Richie with pleading eyes. 

“Eddie,” Richie gasps, Eddie’s hand stroking over him with a little pressure. 

“I like it a lot,” he says, and the words don’t feel heavy on his tongue. “I’m feeling a little wound up,” he finishes. He focuses on the look of Richie understanding, his forehead gone slack, a little bit of a precome on the tip of his cock where Eddie’s palm edges off of him.

“Eds-” Richie starts, and Eddie kisses him, just a little, just to prove he’s okay. 

“We can make coffee,” he says, giving Richie an out, but then adding, “You’re just… you look-”

“Good?” Richie finishes for him, and Eddie blushes, Richie’s eyes deep and heavy on him.

“Yeah,” he breathes, and then Richie is kissing him again, and they press together against the counter, Richie’s dick still between them, desperate to be part of the conversation, and through the thin fabric of Eddie’s pants they can feel each other and Eddie _wants_. 

“What do you want?” Richie asks, always in his head, hands already around Eddie’s ass, pulling him closer. His lips are red and shiny. Eddie groans. 

“I-”

Eddie doesn’t really know, isn’t really sure the kernel of an idea floating through his mind deserves to be popped, so he seals their mouths back together. Richie grunts a little but goes with it, and before long he’s rutting against Eddie’s thigh, and Eddie wants that in his mouth. Right fucking now. 

“The bed,” Eddie says, focusing on Richie, on the way Richie watches him, on the way Richie’s hand holds his hip. Eddie tangles their hands together and leads Richie back to the bed, the blanket trailing behind them, and sits down at the edge. He stands again to roll off his sweatpants, then back down, almost level with Richie’s erection. The height isn’t perfect, but Richie will only have to put his leg up and then it’ll be easy to angle himself right into Eddie’s mouth. 

“Now what?” Richie asks, and Eddie sighs. Can’t give him a fucking second to explain. 

“Bring your leg up here,” Eddie says, wrapping a hand on the underside of Richie’s thigh. Richie hesitates.

“What, like, do the Captain Morgan?”

“Yeah, just fuckin’ do something,” Eddie says, pulling at Richie’s leg like dead-weight. Richie wobbles like a newborn flamingo. 

“Do _what_?” he shrieks, increasingly confused. This is not the tone Eddie wanted to set. 

He throws his hands up. “Do something to get your dick in my mouth, you dumbass!” 

Richie freezes with his foot finally pressed into the bed, his mouth a perfect circle of surprise. Eddie scrubs a hand over his face, doesn’t know what he was thinking, Richie is always fucking _stupid_ in the morning, but he’s determined to make this work. 

Then Richie’s hand is on his jaw. Eddie looks at him and sees the shift, Richie’s eyes glazed but serious, soft and willing to take him where he wants to go. Eddie sighs. He feels any stress that was clutching at his chest slowly unwind. 

“You sure?” Richie asks, his thumb slipping over Eddie’s bottom lip. He might be stupid but he’ll always make his way there eventually. 

Eddie swallows, too distracted by the dark pits of Richie’s eyes to notice his hand has left Eddie’s mouth and moved down to grab at his cock. 

“Fuck, Rich,” he says, licking into Richie’s mouth because it’s so close. Richie’s said two words and Eddie can already tell, already knows this is going to work, that he’s going to feel so much better after Richie takes control, and he whines into Richie’s mouth at the thought of it. 

Richie breaks off panting, again, but this time not from the scare. He finds Eddie’s eyes. 

“Babe, you’re sure? I thought you didn’t-”

Eddie’s hand locks around Richie’s wrist. 

He’s never been one for deep-throating. Didn’t really like the loss of control all wrapped up in it. Richie had tried it once, tried fucking his face, but he was so gentle and checked in every thirty seconds and Eddie ended up annoyed and thoroughly flaccid so he called it a wash. He loves when Richie fucks him, but the thought of something shoving hard at the back of his throat hasn’t exactly been appealing. 

Though, after years of taking pills, a habit he’s glad to have shaken with some therapy, he has no gag reflex to speak of. 

And he needs Richie right now. Feels a little wild, a little desperate, and he wants Richie to hold him down a little. Bring him back to solid ground completely. 

So Eddie pushes at Richie’s shoulder until he’s upright again. His dick is still at attention, leaking around the slit, curved toward Eddie like it’s offering. 

He trusts Richie. He wants this.

“I know, I-I wanna try again,” Eddie says, wetting his lips in preparation. His mouth waters at the sight of Richie, staring down at him, mouth hanging open, cock twitching between them. “I want you to use me.” 

“Oh, _jesus_ , okay,” Richie says, his thigh muscles clenching next to Eddie’s cheek like he’s bracing for it.

Eddie feels quiet and powerful, at Richie’s mercy but with full understanding. It’s different than how he felt yesterday, but still somehow the same. Their dynamic is always flipping and turning, on its head and then pulled inside out, but Eddie flies through it, smashing down his own boxes and accepting it headily. Richie doesn’t seem too put out, either. Most of the time it looks like just the force of them being together is rocking him off his axis. And right now is no different. 

Richie cups at Eddie’s jaw again and Eddie almost moans at the look in his eyes. Richie grabs at the base of his cock with the other, angling it toward its destination. Eddie takes a deep breath in through his nose and tries to relax his throat. 

Then Richie is stopping.

“Wait, wait, shouldn’t we have a safeword or something?” He says, a slow hand moving up the length of himself.

“A safe… word?” Eddie’s eyes search Richie’s face but all that’s there is genuine concern. God. 

“Yeah, I don’t wanna go too far-”

“A word, though? You’re putting that in my mouth, right?” Eddie grimaces, pointing to where Richie has his dick fisted hard in his hand. “I thought we were pretty clearly on the same page.” 

“Of course we are, I’m just trying to be practical-”

“What do you think pr- okay. Okay. I’ll tap your thigh three times.” 

“Oh, I see where the snag was, the _word_ part- sounds. Alright. Tapping.” 

“We’ll come back to the word part later, but right now I really just need you to fuck my face, sweetheart,” Eddie says, because it feels less brutal to tag on a pet name, but Richie just screws up his face. 

“That was- a fuckin’ roller coaster of words and emotion- _fuck_ , Eddie-” 

Eddie can’t take it anymore, leans forward to suck the head of Richie’s cock into his mouth. His chest falls in on itself from relief. Figures he’d have to get this started. He had such high hopes, but Richie usually gets in his own way. That’s what he’s here for. 

His hands slide up the expanse of Richie’s thighs and land on his ass, so he can pull Richie closer, further into his mouth, and Richie goes willingly. 

“Fuck, fuck, sorry, yes,” Richie says, and Eddie groans, tilting his head back only slightly to get into position. Richie’s hips lurch as Eddie attempts a swallow, still too shallow, but the thrust almost gets it there and Eddie’s mouth fills with saliva. _Fuck_. 

Then Richie fists a hand at the back of Eddie’s hair, dug deep into the roots at the base of his head, and moves him a little closer, pushes him that much more, and Eddie’s heart pounds happily in his chest. 

“God, baby, you’re so good,” Richie says, and it wrings a moan out of Eddie, churned straight from his gut. His cock twitches, leaking onto his thigh, but he refuses to touch it. Not until Richie tells him. 

Richie feeds his dick further into Eddie’s mouth and then out, a dry run for what’s to come. But wet. Really, really wet. Eddie gasps when his mouth is free, gracelessly slurping at the extra spit gathering around his mouth, and Richie wiggles a gentle thumb over his cheek.

“Still sure?” he asks, and Eddie knows he would stop, even with his cock red and straining for the stimulation, even with his eyes blown and a flush creeping all the way down his chest.

“Didn’t feel me tapping, did you?” 

Richie shakes his head. He repeats the motion, this time a little harder, and Eddie feels light-headed. 

“Have I told you you’re so fucking good? You’re so _fucking_ good, Eddie,” Richie says, and Eddie groans around him. “Keep waking up desperate for my cock.” 

Eddie’s jaw is distended and numb, but his mouth feels everything. The hard line of Richie moving in and out, the way the head slides past the ridge of his palate, the taste of him on his tongue. Eddie’s hard enough to cut diamonds from the combination of it, from the desperate catching in his chest aching for more. But Richie keeps talking, keeps pushing in slowly, keeps pulling out with care like he’s taking his time. 

“Want you to have everything you want, baby. Wanna give it to you just how you want. Make you feel good.” 

Richie’s tipping in and out, his hand carding through Eddie’s hair, not really holding anymore. Eddie’s still got a grip on his thighs and he’s inching him forward. 

“You want it faster?” He asks, and Eddie lets out an affirmative noise low in his chest. “Fuck, baby, okay-“

And then Richie shoves in all the way. Eddie feels his eyes water first, then the tight pressure clinging his throat muscles together. It’s gone almost as fast as it happens, but he sucks in more air through his nose to keep himself steady. 

Richie’s dick hit the back of his throat. And it felt like being overwhelmed and punished and praised and taken apart. And it was really fucking _hot_.

“God, you’re doing so good,” Richie groans. He weaves Eddie’s hair through his fingers and really gets a good hold. Eddie’s dizzy, looking up at Richie, huddled over him and sweaty, and he wishes he could kiss him, somehow. 

Richie starts fucking into his face in a steady rhythm. He hits the back of Eddie’s throat every other stroke. There’s spit all down Eddie’s chin and his eyes are wide with the sheer, dumb pleasure of it all, but Richie holds him there, keeps talking. 

“You always take me so good, no matter what. Thought you just liked a dick in your ass but you really just want me to give you everything, huh? _Eddie_ ,” he whines when Eddie clings to the bare skin of his ass and pulls Richie forward to swallow him down. 

He holds Richie there as long as he can, throat flexing around him, his eyes forcing out tears. His gag reflex is truly gone, and this proves it. Richie twitches in his throat and he has to let him go. Richie pulls out after Eddie taps his thigh once, looking worried. 

“Y’okay? Baby, you didn’t have to do that. Fuck,” Richie’s saying above him, caressing his jaw, reaching down to stroke a gentle hand over his balls. Eddie shakes his head, catching his breath as best he can while Richie’s threatening to finger him, hands roaming past his taint. He spreads his legs because it feels good. 

Richie keeps calling him _baby_ and it feels _so_ fucking good. 

“Wanted to,” Eddie says, his voice rough, “want to do it again. C’mon Rich.” 

“Yeah?” Richie frees his hand and goes too quick for Eddie to answer, mouth already stuffed full, and it’s like he’s broken a dam. Now that Richie knows it’s good, that he’s into it too, he can’t stop himself. 

He’s pounding in at exactly the right angle, his hips pumping forward into Eddie’s face, his legs straining where they’re planted, spread apart and trembling. 

“You give me everything, Eddie, baby, god, you’re so good to me,” Richie’s saying, almost under his breath, “just wanna stay in you forever, you just needed me so much, baby boy, god, I love you.” 

Eddie’s hand flies to fist at his cock faster than lightning, blinking away the flash of pain at how hard he is. Richie sees it and groans.

“You like that? You like me calling you baby boy?” he asks in that deep voice, still pulling Eddie just how he wants him, using Eddie’s mouth to get himself off. 

Eddie moans around him, trying to sob, his lungs filling up with it, feeling nothing but Richie and that sting of humiliation and arousal he usually does when things hit him in the moment, too overwhelmed to parse out the feelings. It used to scare him, the completely unknowable realm of his own pleasure, suddenly acutely aware that he’s a sexual being instead of a malcontently heterosexual married man who is obligated to perform. 

But Richie wants to know what Eddie likes. In fact, he _loves_ finding out what Eddie likes. And what Eddie likes usually ends up being what Richie likes, too. He’s easy to please that way. And what’s more, he trusts Richie. 

Eddie stares up at him with watery eyes and a gaping jaw, jerking hard at his own cock, swallowing Richie’s dick like his life depends on it, and Richie stares back down at him, awestruck and deep red, thumbing at the corner of Eddie’s eye to wipe at a tear, and Eddie doesn’t think he could ever trust someone more. 

“Gonna come in your mouth, baby boy, see how you like it,” Richie slurs out, and Eddie strokes himself in earnest, so fucking turned on his eyes are blurry, tears streaming down his cheeks, keeping his head in place so Richie can keep pushing himself inside. “Gonna fill you up and then flip you over and stick my tongue in your ass.”

Eddie’s lips are tingling around Richie’s cock and he slips a finger beside where he’s thrusting in and out, stretching at Eddie’s mouth. The pressure almost sends him over the edge, but he really wants to come with Richie’s tongue in him, so he reluctantly pulls his hand off his dick and fists it in the sheets. 

They’re both moaning and gasping and slipping hands all over each other, desperate to make it last but also wanting more. Eddie slowly unclenches the sheets and trails a finger up between Richie’s legs. When he teases at the rim of Richie’s hole, Richie pushes in far enough to nudge at Eddie’s throat again. Eddie’s finger breaches him, still slick from last night, and the deep pressure of Richie’s cock and the feel of where Eddie fucked him last night is too much, and Richie must be thinking the same thing, hips stuttering, and then he’s coming down Eddie’s throat. 

It happens so fast it startles Eddie at first, the splash of liquid, but he’s swallowed hundreds of times before and this is really no different, in fact, it’s a little easier. All he needs to do is let it happen, let Richie fist his hair in a frazzled bunch, let him empty himself inside, let Richie’s greedy asshole pull him in, clenching around Eddie’s finger as he comes apart. 

“Fuck, fuck, yes, _baby_ ,” Richie’s saying, an endless stream, a few lazy thrusts forward and then he’s pulling out so Eddie can catch his breath, but Eddie releases him with a desperate gasp. “God, Eddie, you’re killing me,” Richie says in a rush, and flips Eddie over by the arm. 

“Nnnngh,” Eddie moans into the sheets, face suddenly pressed there, digging his knees into the mattress so he can shove his ass up. 

“Wait, wait, where’s that goddamn wedge thing?” Richie’s saying, and decidedly _not_ sticking his tongue in Eddie’s ass. 

“What?” Eddie whines, and Richie moves to palm his ass, which is some relief, at least. 

“I thought I could drape you over it or some shit, that might be real sexy,” Richie says, and Eddie snaps out of it for a moment just to glare at him over his shoulder.

“What the fuck, you were dirty talking like a _pro_ two seconds ago and now I get the surfer dude?” Eddie gasps. 

“Fuck you, I’m _always_ a pro,” Richie shoots back. 

“Then get over here and prove it.”

“But the wedge-”

“Fuck the wedge, I promise I’ll let you drape me all over all tons of shit later if you just put your tongue in me right now,” Eddie says, and Richie looks like he’s thinking about continuing the argument, but then his hands are back on Eddie’s ass, spreading him apart, and he’s mumbling against the small of Eddie’s back. 

“Gonna fuck up my knees.” He licks a circle around Eddie’s hole, and Eddie reaches out for a pillow to shove his face into. 

“Don’t worry, this isn’t going to take long,” he says into it, and Richie moans, already wet and sloppy from the force of his tongue. Richie sucks and licks at him, fucking him harder than he usually does because Eddie’s pushing back into it, the tendrils of his orgasm tingling through his body. 

Eddie’s got one set of toes on the ground and the other dug into the mattress, humping the sheets in a clumsy circle, spread open on Richie’s face and practically spinning on his tongue. Richie’s crouched over him like a bony dinosaur, notches of spine undulating with the chaotic motion of his jaw. They’re both moaning like horny idiots, filling the cabin with the sounds of their desperate fucking, and that’s why neither of them hear the first set of knocks. 

The second set, however, ring steadily in both of their ears, and they rocket off the bed as fast as they can, spit still sliding down the inside of Eddie’s thighs. 

When they close the bathroom door behind them, Eddie is almost hyperventilating, and Richie watches him with wide eyes and a red face.

“It’s the guys- I, uh. I invited them for a night.” 

Eddie stares at him. He keeps staring, and Richie waves a hand in front of his face because he keeps on staring, but then Richie just starts up talking again.

“I know it’s our honeymoon, but I wanted to fill the trip with your favorite things, and that’s our fucking friends, dude. You _love_ our friends,” Richie says, and it sounds like he’s pleading, loud and echoing in the bathroom. They’re both standing there naked, and Eddie hasn’t even _come_ . He fucking _aches_ with it. He shifts closer to Richie, pressing their bodies together and crowding him against the back of the door. His dick thanks him for the pressure. Richie wraps his arms around him but keeps talking.

“Then you fucked the absolute life out of me last night and I fell asleep with your dick all tucked into my back and I totally forgot to set the alarm,” Richie says, and Eddie nods, kissing at the center of his chest. “And _then_ you woke up me up and absolutely demanded I stick my dick in your mouth and I forgot what fucking _day_ it was. Basically I’m braindead from your dick and your mouth and how fucking hot you are, you asshole.” 

Eddie hugs him tightly, sniffling just a tiny bit because it’s already somehow been a long fucking morning, and now _all_ of his favorite people are here and he doesn’t quite know what to do with it. He wants to be mad at Richie for completely cock-blocking him with forgotten plans while also fucking him expertly at the same time, but instead Richie cuts him off, hands cupping at his face.

“Stan flew in,” Richie whispers into his mouth, and Eddie closes the gap to kiss the dumb smirk off his face. He knows he’s winning and it’s not fucking funny. 

Honestly, Eddie is _ecstatic_. He hasn’t seen Stan in almost a year, not since they had Drew, and he wonders if Patty was also able to get away, and then he thinks about _everyone_ and he can’t fucking wait to get out there and see them all. To spend a whole day with them. 

Eddie knows he could have spent this whole time alone with Richie and loved it. But his friends have always made everything better, and Richie knowing that makes his heart sing. 

“Please do not laugh at me, and also please never tell our friends,” Eddie says in a rush, because they have very little time and he knows what he fucking wants, Richie’s hairy chest spread out against his hands, his hand solid on Eddie’s hip, “but I’m gonna need you to jerk me off in the shower while I watch in that mirror and then go out there and pretend like nothing happened.” 

Eddie’s not messing around, so he starts the shower and flips on the fan in the bathroom, just in case. He feels bad abandoning their friends outside for a little while longer, but he is not going out there until he comes. Richie owes him that much. 

Thankfully, Richie hops to after a moment of letting his brain catch up, and he pipes out a stupid, “righty-ho!” before following Eddie into the spray. 

Richie works the head of Eddie’s dick nice and hard for several minutes, the muscles in his forearm straining as he brings him to orgasm. Eddie comes around a muffled shout, head thunking back against the wall of the shower. He’d been too worked up to even pay attention to the reflection.

“Fuck,” he sighs, coming down as Richie picks up a bar of soap to start cleaning them both off. “I really hope they didn’t see anything, Rich.” 

“Eh, they’ll live,” Richie says, kissing at Eddie’s shoulder before pressing the soap there. 

Eddie’s not sure _he_ will, though.

“Oh my god,” Eddie says, pressing a hand to his mouth, “we need to fucking brush our teeth, I can’t believe I allowed ass-to-mouth. I must’ve really been in shock.” 

As Ben will tell Eddie later, they knocked politely a couple times, and when he peered into the bedroom window, he glimpsed the quickest flash of bare flesh, two asses out in the wind and high-tailing it to the bathroom to escape. 

They all spent the next ten minutes on the patio, just in case, and only knocked again when Richie texted them that the coast was clear. 

“I’m really sorry,” Eddie whispers when Ben is done, but Ben just shrugs and takes a bite of his panini. 

“It’s your honeymoon,” he says with a smile.

Eddie stares across the table at the restaurant they found to where Richie is shoveling bacon and avocado mac and cheese into his mouth. He nods. 

“Yeah, I guess love really does make you stupid,” he says. It sounds like a fucking sigh, but he knows he’ll never stop being so cheesy for this doofus, sitting two feet from him with full-on heart eyes because Eddie looked his way. 

“Tell me you’re not just noticing this,” Ben says into his ear, and Eddie laughs. 

“Believe me, _no_.” Richie’s at his back then, rubbing a smooth line over his shoulders. Eddie’s eyes flutter, along with his chest, and Ben scoffs.

“Case in point.” 

“Fuck off, Ben, Eddie’s enjoying himself, aren’t ya, Eds?” Richie says. Eddie groans, leaning into Richie’s touch, which is now blooming into a full massage. He’s been having way too much sex, and not in a good way, but in a “I am a forty-something year old man and I can only do so much fucking without getting sore” way. 

And also in a really, really good way. 

“I’d enjoy myself more if you kept that up,” Eddie says, and Richie digs into his muscles a little harder. Maybe it’s the vacation or the extra sleep, or the fact that he was sitting on Richie’s face only an hour earlier, but he lets a tiny moan slip. Ben shoots out of his seat in an instant, and Eddie doesn’t really blame him, especially considering what he’s seen. 

Richie shakes his head. “What’s his deal?”

Eddie shrugs. “You don’t want to know.” 

Patty wasn’t able to make it, someone had to be home watching their brood of _three kids_ , and from what Stan tells Eddie at lunch, he’s not sure they’re done. 

“Four. That would be four people, Stan,” Eddie says, holding up four fingers, “Four people you have made.” Stan heaves a laugh. He balls up his napkin and throws it on his empty plate. Eddie stares down at his own, practically licked clean. He’s been eating well on this trip, too. 

“I’m aware, thank you,” Stan says, eyes shining bright, crinkling in the corners. “They’re all pretty cute, I have to say. Especially the new one.” 

He holds up his phone, his background a smiling picture of Drew, the spitting image of Patty. 

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Eddie says, thinking of the last time they made it to Atlanta. Their house was hectic, and Eddie was one skittering child away from a panic attack, but the quiet moments almost made everything worth it. And from what Stan and Patty have told them the past few years, it’s a pretty worthwhile endeavor in general.

Plus, it’s not like he and Richie would have more than one. 

Not that they _will_ or have even talked about it, really, more than once or twice. 

And Eddie definitely doesn’t ever think about it. About looking down at a tiny brunette with big glasses and loving them. About making up for the past of what was inflicted on him. But should he inflict himself on a child? That’s the hard line he can’t quite figure out how to jump. 

Even so, he believes Stan when he tells him he and Richie could do it. They’ve made it through a lot. 

Richie’s been making his rounds during lunch, chatting with each one of their friends individually. Eddie’s stayed put, letting people come to him, but Richie’s a glittering ball of social energy. He’s comfortable here, and Eddie can tell. In any case, he’ll always make his way back to Eddie eventually. 

“You wanna head back to the house, Spaghetti?” Richie asks, approaching him as everyone pays. Eddie grabs at Richie’s fingers, woven over his shoulders again, feeling happy and safe. 

“Show everyone the creepy digs you arranged for me?” Eddie answers, and Bev laughs.

“Oh my god, Richie, it’s perfect,” she says, and Eddie turns to beam at her. He knew she would understand. 

“That’s what _I_ said,” he exclaims. Richie scoffs behind him, but Eddie flips back to see him smiling. He knows he did well. 

“You two are so goddamn weird. You hate my doll head but you love the house from hell,” Richie says, and Eddie adamantly shakes his head.

“Fuck that thing. That thing is _cursed_ ,” Eddie says. Bev nods beside him in solidarity. 

Eddie decides that Bev is his favorite.

They all get up to leave, piling into two cars and driving back to the house. Eddie makes it a point to sit on Richie’s lap in the backseat, even though Mike insists he really doesn’t need to, because it’s only five miles and he’s felt like a fucking teenager all week, floating on love. 

Eddie never got to be a lovesick teenager, doped up on his boyfriend’s dick. He’s gonna take his chances where he can find them.

“You gonna give me a hickey, Eds?” Richie whispers into his ear at a stop sign. Eddie pivots so he can see his face. 

“You and I both know that’s a horrible idea.” 

Richie can’t keep quiet when Eddie touches him. He’d be full-on deep-throat moaning by the time a bruise flowered on his skin. 

Richie whines anyway, pawing at the circle of Eddie’s waist. 

“Even after I-” Eddie presses a palm to Richie’s mouth as fast as lightning. 

“Shut the fuck _up_ , am I going to have to keep an eye on you?” He hisses. Richie licks at his hand and Eddie howls. 

“Please guys, I can see the house,” Mike says from the front seat. 

The Tozier Extended Tour of the property manages to be pretty pathetic. They don’t even make it to the basement. Richie’s tour guide skills are so rough he runs out of fake stories after the kitchen and fireplace, but they’re also stuck chatting the whole time, despite keeping their table of seven so long at the restaurant they almost kicked them out for the dinner rush. 

After Eddie hurries them through the bedroom lest there be any evidence of their copious love-making, there’s not much else to see but the garden. Plus, Ben and Mike get caught deep in a discussion on environmentally responsible architecture and dome structures and then Bev winks in Eddie’s direction and they’re suddenly outside, wrangling enough chairs to seat all of them on the patio. Ben and Mike come out after ten minutes, smiling at each other like nerds. 

They all settle into a companionable hum of voices, mirroring the bees that buzz through the flowers. Evening creeps forward slowly from where they’re circled around on the bricks, staring out into the endless line of trees beyond them. 

“You did good, man, this place is great,” Mike says, tipping his water bottle to Richie. Richie’s beaming, like he has been for most of the day. Eddie rocks gently in the chair next to him, their hands tangled together over the armrests.

“You all know I’m a very humble man,” Richie begins, waving off the barrage of protests to continue, “but I do have to say I think I fuckin’ nailed this one.” 

“Why the fuck-” Eddie whispers next to him.

“Do you have to word it like that, man?” Bill asks, his hand similarly woven around Mike’s. 

“What?” Richie asks, feigning ignorance. “Oh, did you think I meant Eddie Spaghetti here? Well, that, too.” 

Eddie blushes, yanking his hand back so he can cover his face. 

They move inside once the sun fully sets. As soon as Eddie has made a kickass cheese plate and passed out squares of Lactaid to everyone, he remembers his puzzle. They’re all happily sipping on mojitos and Bill and Richie have beers, but Eddie gasps and pulls Stan to the living room table to show him his finished product.

“Eddie, that _rocks_ ,” Stan says, kneeling on the carpet to admire it up close. Eddie loves him. Turns out Stan is his favorite. 

“Took me one day.”

“No shit?” 

Eddie can tell Stan is tipsy. He doesn’t drink much anymore. Honestly, neither does Eddie, but he’s learned his limits, and knows how to keep it all pleasant. He hasn’t had a hangover in year, and he’s definitely not going to deal with one on his honeymoon. Then again, he’s trying not to keep tabs. One miserable day would be worth it for the uninhibited company of his friends. 

“I wanted to start with the train ‘cause it seemed like a good middle ground.” Eddie points at the big duffel bag full of other puzzles he’d deemed worthy enough to join them on the trip. “There’s a few more in there I’d love to try, but I don’t think I’ll have much time for anymore.” 

Stan’s already digging through the bag, gingerly placing the rejects on the chair next to him. 

“Fuck that, Eds, we’re gonna do a whole one _tonight_ ,” he says, and Eddie immediately lowers himself to the ground.

“I am _so_ in.”

Richie goes downstairs to try his hand at pouring the first round of shots, Ben close on his heels. They all sit around with their drinks and chat while Eddie and Stan listen from the floor, finding errant pieces when they can. 

Soon, Richie is yelling from the basement. 

“Beverly! Get down here and play with someone else’s balls with me.”

Bev and Eddie stare at each other.

“I am not drunk enough for this, Richie,” Bev says. He can hear Richie huff.

“I’m serious, Ben’s balls are all out and I need a partner!”

Eddie’s really fucking confused. How much has Richie had to drink? 

“What the fuck… what about Eddie?” Bev asks, straw stuck to her lips in shock. 

“Eddie has no idea what he’s doing, are you kidding me?” Richie calls out. Beverly’s eyes are full of horror, popped wide on her face, like they’re trying to run away. 

They hear Ben cackling while Richie, a little more quietly, snaps a slurred, “ _What_?” 

“Richie, please tell me you’re not playing with Ben’s balls down there,” Beverly asks. 

“What?” Richie asks, incredulous, “Of course not, I’m using whoever the fuck’s balls they left down here. I dunno. The people who own this place.”

It suddenly clicks. 

“The pool table, everyone, he’s talking about the fucking pool table, Jesus Christ,” Eddie says, sighing. 

Ben’s laughter is still floating upstairs, and soon Bev is giggling into her drink and running downstairs to join them. Mike and Bill follow her, and Eddie hears Richie loudly ask, “What the fuck did you perverts think I meant? God, you’re all so _horny_ for me. I thought it was just Eds.” 

Eddie blushes over his goddamn puzzle. He tries to hide it, but Stan snorts as he shoves another piece into the right spot. 

“Fuck you, Stan, I filled in way more of the border than you,” Eddie spits, rubbing at where his cheeks are heating. 

Stan shrugs. “Border’s the easy part.” 

Stan and Eddie have a hard time breaking their drunken promise to each other. They both _really_ want to finish the puzzle they chose together, of an ethereal princess being, but it is fifteen hundred pieces and there’s literally no way that even two supernatural entities could get this done in one blurry, tipsy night. 

They still try their best. 

“It looks _exactly_ like this hole here, two on this side, one on this side,” Stan is saying, as Eddie scours the ground for anything they could have dropped. “I’ve looked through every one of these pieces, there’s absolutely no way it’s here. I must have lost it.” 

Eddie’s halfway through flipping the second chair in the room, encouraged by the thrill of his inebriation by the time Stan finally finds it. 

There’s a loud whooping from the basement the moment he brings it to the table. 

“Okay, maybe we should join everyone downstairs,” Stan says when they hear a concerted yell in their direction. 

Eddie groans. “I really thought we could do it.” Stan stands up to pat him on the back.

“We’ll get one eventually, Eddie,” Stan says. Eddie smiles up at him. “We have plenty of time.” 

One they make their way downstairs, chaos truly erupts. 

Bill and Mike are trying their hands at darts, and Stan happily joins in. Bev and Ben are circling the pool table with Richie, and as soon as Eddie appears, Richie looks fit to cry. 

“Fucking _finally,_ Eds, I’ve had to stall my little heart out,” Richie says, gripping him hard around the waist. He’s on at least his second drink, and Eddie can tell. The alcohol’s seeping in at his edges, too. He likes it. He leans into Richie’s hold and smiles at Bev across the table. 

“I _knew_ you wanted to play,” Bev says, pointing at Richie. 

“Of course I wanted to play, you think I’m gonna give up an opportunity to kick your ass?” 

“My husband is an architect, numbnuts, we’re going to play circles around you,” Bev’s saying when Ben starts to wave his arms.

“Wait, wait, we are _not_ playing couples. I’m putting you two on the same team or the rest of us are never going to get a fucking word in,” Ben says, his voice calm and measured, pointing at Bev and Richie. Eddie sighs happily.

“Thank god, Richie sucks at pool,” he says, and Richie tenses behind him. 

“The fuck? I think you’re confusing me with yourself,” Richie responds, flipping Eddie around in his arms. “I’m a miniature jock.” 

“You’re not a miniature _anything_ ,” Eddie says, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Richie’s eyes track the movement, and Eddie feels the familiar heat sweep over him. God, he’ll never get enough of driving Richie crazy. 

“I heard that,” Bev says, fingers gliding over each of the pool cues, choosing her favorite. There’s only four, but it still takes her forever.

“Like you’re surprised,” Richie says to her, then lower, right into Eddie’s ear, “You tryin’ to get me to bend you over this table, Spaghetti?” 

His hands stake a punishing grip over Eddie’s hips, and Eddie suddenly considers it. Hoisting himself up onto the table, spreading his legs. Watching as Richie enters him, wet cock dripping onto the green felt. Shaking the table with his thrusts, stroking Eddie as his legs quiver around the both of them. 

“Uh,” is all Eddie can manage, while Richie grins salaciously at him. 

“Can you just tell us what a miniature jock is so we can get the game started?” Ben asks, rubbing blue chalk over the edge of his cue. Eddie tries to catch his breath as Richie pulls away.

“Glad you asked, Benjamin,” he says, eyes still on Eddie, fingers gripping around his own cue, jeans tight on him, _fuck_ , Eddie can’t think straight. “You know, the miniature sports? Ping pong, badminton, racing tiny horses.”

Bill snorts behind them. “Is that when you put a saddle on Eddie and parade him around the track?”

Eddie flushes, frazzled and horny, anger flooding his veins. There’s only one pool cue left mounted to the wall, and he uses it to chase Bill around the basement for the next five minutes. Mike follows them, trying to talk Eddie down, but he’s slow on their heels.

He fucking _hates_ Bill.

At first, competing seems like an opportunity to dump a giant bucket of ice water on Eddie’s raging mental hard-on.

Then he remembers that almost the entirety of their pre-relationship (and current and post-relationship, if that’s a thing) foreplay included mostly teasing and name-calling, and that idea goes out the window almost as quickly as it formed. 

As the game crawls on, Bev gives _better_ than she’s getting, her eyes sharp and her tongue fucking mean. Her target is mostly Ben, though she gets off a few good ones on Richie, too. Eddie is delighted. 

Richie, on the other hand, could use some improving. 

“C’mon, you dimwit, will you fucking go?” Eddie says, trying to avoid sticking Richie in the eye with his cue. Richie positions himself for the shot, sinking it on the first go, his arms flexing with the effort. His teeth flash white up to Eddie.

“I fucking _knew_ I was better than you, you, uh. You fuckin’-” Richie sounds like a lawnmower stalling, mouth gaping around the words uselessly, “you’re a goddamn-precious, oh my god, what the _fuck_ ,” he gasps, clutching at his chest. 

“What is even happening right now,” Eddie says, struck dumb. Richie’s reaching out to him, not participating in a victory lap around the room, and Bev is halfway done, so something is definitely wrong. 

“I can’t-” Richie says, a fucking fish out of water, sucking at the air in a desperate show of dramatics, “I can’t insult you on our honeymoon, babe, it just seems so _wrong_.” 

“You’re not insulting me,” Eddie says, low between them, like he’s sneaking Richie the answers on a test, “it’s, we’re competing.” 

“I _know_ ,” Richie whines, one hand coming to rest on Eddie’s hip. Fuck, he’s so touchy. “But you’re all tipsy and loose and you’re wearing your fucking _sports_ fanny pack-”

“It’s a regular goddamn fanny pack-”

“-with the little pins from your marathons-”

“-and you need to pull yourself together.”

“Do you have little tubes of Vaseline in there? For chafing?” Richie asks, huddling against him, win completely forgotten. Eddie squirms away as Richie’s arms bracket him, trying to find Bev, when he sees her wound around Ben in the corner of the bar. 

“I hate _all_ of you,” Eddie says, right into Richie’s mouth, and then he’s being pressed against the edge of the table, and he lets it happen. 

But they’re definitely playing another game. 

Bill pours shots before they get there. 

Eddie’s never liked tequila much, so Mike gives his and Eddie’s to Richie and pours them two smaller shots of vodka. 

Mike’s always been his favorite. 

They all slam theirs at the same time. Half of Bill’s pours down his face, ever the disaster, but Mike reaches over to lick it off his cheek. Bill catches him in a kiss, mouth opening as soon as they slot together, and then Eddie is just _watching_ , and the vodka burns a bright, blue flame in his gut. He looks up to see Richie over the bar, hazy and hot, prowling toward him, extra shot cupped in his hand.

“You ever done a body shot, baby?” he asks, and Eddie blows a raspberry, pushing at his chest when he gets closer. 

“What kinda opening line is that?” 

“Shut up and bend over.” 

“That’s even better,” Eddie says, but his stomach tightens at the command. Richie twirls a finger in his face, so Eddie turns, facing the tacky stained glass art on the opposite wall, abs pressed to the solid line of the wood. 

“That’s right,” Richie says, pushing at the center of Eddie’s back, “down you go.” 

“Wait.” Eddie springs back up. “How are you doing a shot off my _back_ exactly?” 

“Pouring it all over you and sucking it up.” 

Eddie huffs. “I fucking knew it. There’s no way. That shit’s gonna get everywhere and it’ll burn like a bitch.” 

“Oh my god, don’t be such a drama queen. Hey Beverly-“ Richie says, and Bev cranes back to listen, arms slung easy around Stan’s waist. Stan’s grinning ear to ear, his hair a mess. 

“What?” 

“How do you do a body shot off someone’s back?” Richie asks, and Ben turns, dart pinched between his fingers.

“Pour it all over, baby,” she says, at the same time Ben says, “You lick the salt off their back and balance the glass.” 

Alright, okay, _Ben_ is his favorite. 

Richie turns back to Eddie, biting at the inside of his lip, considering.

“Lean over the stool, you’ve gotta be at a fucking right angle to balance this thing,” Richie says, and Eddie feels fucking light-headed from happiness, Richie’s big hand still holding him. 

Beverly boos them in the background as Eddie turns to lean, the soft cushion of the bar stool taking away some of the edge. Richie has to crouch over quite a bit, and Eddie’s shirt is awkwardly hiked up around his chest, and their friends are hooting over their drunken game of darts in the background, but then Richie presses the half-hard line of his cock into the crease of Eddie’s ass, and he already feels a little taken apart.

“This is, uh,” Eddie says as Richie’s licking a straight line in the dip at the base of his spine, “this is good.” 

Richie pours out some salt onto the same spot and then Eddie feels the cold of the shot glass against his skin. 

“I’m glad it feels good for you, ‘cause this is definitely not as fun as I imagined,” he says. He takes his time cleaning the salt off of Eddie’s back, and then Eddie feels the heat of him leave when he stands up to take the shot. Eddie groans quietly in the back of his throat, wanting more of Richie’s tongue on him. 

“Pour one on me, then,” he says, feeling fevered as Richie runs a hand over the exposed skin of his back. 

“You serious?” 

“Yeah, fuck, just do it.” The vodka is hitting him, and with the two drinks he had earlier and Richie holding him down, Eddie thinks maybe the burn will be worth Richie getting him messy and cleaning him up. 

Richie leans down next to his ear, kissing at the shell of it. 

“Wish I had the wedge for this,” he whispers, and Eddie feels it in his dick before Richie’s pouring a healthy pool of tequila into the small of his back. The suction of his mouth follows it up quick. Eddie moans at the slurp Richie lets slip. 

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he says low, but Richie hears him, palming over his spine gently. It does burn, but it’s not as bad as he thought, and it gives Richie an excuse to paint him with saliva. Over the points of his ribs, down the flesh of his hips. He wets the band of Eddie’s briefs, just under his pants, going to town like this morning but a few inches higher. Eddie flushes at the memory. 

“I think I got it all,” Richie says, smoothing his hand over skin in his tongue’s wake. Eddie turns his face on the stool, toward the room. His eyes are fucking blurry from arousal. 

“Gimme a minute,” he says, and Richie snorts above him. He smacks a kiss on Eddie’s cheek and pulls him up around the shoulders. 

Obliterating Eddie’s senses makes Richie cocky, and since he and Bev won the only game of pool, he refuses to play again unless they add one very important component.

“Strip pool is not a thing,” Ben says, and Eddie nods fervently. 

“Winner’s rules, you can’t beat logic, fools,” Richie says, peeling off his sock very slowly, hopping around the table like a drunken bird. 

Eddie watches him and wonders how five minutes ago this man had him bent over a stool, flushed and panting. He truly defies expectations. 

“Why the fuck are we starting with socks?” Bev asks, working at the buttons on her jeans. Ben shoves a hand over hers.

“Jesus, you two, we haven’t even started _playing_.” 

Richie flings his sock through the air and Eddie cringes. “That is _nasty_ , Richard, all the fucking _foot_ particles.” 

It lands on the light fixture directly above the pool table. Eddie groans. 

“I am not getting that.”

He does get it. 

Eddie and Ben win strip pool, even though that really isn’t a thing. Ben ends up without a shirt, because of course that was the first thing both Richie and Bev insisted come off. Eddie’s standing in briefs and a shirt, socks still on, because he’d rather go thighs-out than walk on this thick, outdated carpet with bare feet. Basements are notoriously disgusting. 

Beverly and Richie are both down to underwear. They’re fully willing to go nude, but Mike steps in before the lingering shots get the better of them. 

“Let’s just head out to the hot tub,” he says, and it’s the second time Bev’s been a moment away from mooning the room, “Find our suits?” 

She sags, but follows as he leads the group upstairs. Then Eddie remembers the sock. 

He’s climbing onto the table, knees scraping the rough green, and there goes that fantasy. Beard burn is one thing, but he’s not willing to scratch the hell out of his knees for a good fuck. 

He fishes the sock from where it’s stuck when he feels a hand come up to his calf. He expects Richie, but peers down to see Mike, watching him with a pinched brow. 

“Can you get down?” Mike says, and Eddie scoffs.

“I’m not that small, Mike,” he says, but Mike’s stretched out his arms, and Eddie really doesn’t want to think about red welts on his ass as he tries to scooch off this table. He sighs, sucking up his pride and anchoring a hand on Mike’s shoulder. Richie and Bill are watching from the base of the stairs, two sets of wide, stunned eyes, as Eddie swings his legs and seats himself in Mike’s arms. They swing in a semi-circle before Mike plants him on the ground, a swift and easy movement. 

Eddie’s a little breathless when Mike steadies him with a hand to his spine. 

Bill and Richie are practically drooling. Eddie walks over, swaying his hips a little more than usual, Richie’s eyes on him. He pins the sock to Richie’s bare chest and makes his way up the stairs to get into his suit. 

The hot tub is definitely not big enough for seven people. Four would be pushing it. 

“Couple up everyone, I call Eddie!” Richie yells, dragging Eddie to sit on his lap so Stan can get into the water. Eddie stumbles onto Richie’s thighs and turns to rest his arm over the edge. 

“No duh, Richie, we’re a fucking couple.” 

Richie frowns. “Didn’t want Mike getting any ideas after his He-Man show downstairs.” 

Mike laughs, looking rugged in a deep red pair of shorts, arm pressed snugly around Bill’s shoulders in the corner. Eddie nudges an elbow into Richie’s chest. 

“He was being a gentleman,” Bev says. She ruffles at Ben’s hair, dripping at the ends. Eddie’s heart flutters a bit. Then he notices Stan, floating in the center of all of them, holding his mojito up high, away from the splash of the water. 

“Sorry Patty couldn’t make it, Staniel,” Richie says, always in his head. 

Stan waves a hand, but his eyes droop. “She misses you guys.” 

“Maybe we should make this a thing,” Bev says.

“What? Butting in on each other’s honeymoons?” Richie asks. His arms weave around Eddie’s waist and Eddie leans against him. It’s their _honeymoon_. 

Bill squeaks. “You invited us, you big lug.” 

“Yeah, and you missed most of those already,” Mike says, gripping a big hand over Bill’s shoulder and shaking until he smiles again. 

“No, no, just… trips together,” Bev says. They all hum in agreement. 

“We’ve done those before,” Stan says, but it’s more of a fact than a refutation. 

Richie kisses at the pale skin of Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie wraps his loose arm around Richie’s neck and kisses him back, just over his temple, the beat in his vein soft against Eddie’s lips. 

“We should make it a yearly thing,” Eddie agrees, hand playing with Richie’s hair, “when we’re all together it just feels-” he pauses, but Richie turns, meeting his lips for a peck. 

“Right,” Richie finishes. Eddie nods and squeezes him tighter. 

The heat of the water and the alcohol get to them after half an hour, all marginally drunk after two shared pitchers of mojitos, shots and random one-off beers and glasses of wine. Richie had gone shopping, after all, so they could hardly want for alcohol. 

Ben laughs for a solid minute at Richie’s impression of Patty at New Year’s after too much champagne, and Bill almost faceplants on his way out of the tub to refill their drinks. Richie alone sucked enough booze off of Eddie’s back to get him hammered, but he’s more subdued than Eddie would expect. Every so often, Eddie catches him glancing down at his bare torso, gripping a hand around the meat of his belly. Eddie follows the movement with his own loving hold, stroking softly, petting him under the water. 

Eddie and Richie get out first so Eddie can usher Richie into the bathroom to shower off the hot tub bacteria, proud of himself for even getting into the thing, but the owners left a long, detailed note about how to keep it clean and that alone was enough for him to risk it. He closes the door and turns on Richie.

“You okay?” he asks, dropping off his suit and starting the water up for their second shower of the day. Their shower at home is sizeable, but this makes Eddie want to remodel their entire bathroom. A nice, glass door, a giant fucking mirror- but he saves that thought for later. 

Richie pulls his arms around himself, chest kicking in at the center. 

“I’m great, just spent the evening surrounded by buff dudes,” he says, voice high and reedy, and it reminds Eddie of his act, that guarded, nasally sound, “one of whom Hulk-ed out and lifted you off the table like a badass. And I’m just-” he grabs at his soft hips again, the circle of fat that Eddie loves. Eddie swats his hand away ungracefully. 

“Stop that, you’ve been doing that all night!” 

Richie rolls his eyes and steps out of his own suit so they can shower. “I’m sorry! I’m freaking out a little,” he says, jamming a hand in the air as Eddie grabs the body wash. 

“Just stand there and let me wash you,” Eddie says to him. He lathers some in his hands, letting the wave of mango scent overwhelmed him and starts with Richie’s shoulders. His mouth waters at the broad expanse of them, how the muscles ripple like the water pouring over both of them. He hums as his hands move down, over the parts Richie was sinking his fingers into critically, feeling them through the suds, pressing his hardening cock against the side of Richie’s thigh. 

“You are insatiable,” Richie murmurs as Eddie takes extra care to get the space between Richie’s legs clean, front to back. 

“Yeah, and you’re fucking perfect,” Eddie shoots back. Richie hangs his head, but Eddie lifts at his chin to bring their mouths together. They kiss under the spray, water occasionally plugging at Eddie’s nose, but he hardly cares when Richie’s hand strokes over his cock. It punches a breath out of him, but he pulls away completely to finish washing Richie’s body. 

“Right back atchya, hot stuff,” Richie says, but Eddie ignores him until they’re both thoroughly cleaned and toweling off, standing in front of the mirror, watching each other. 

Eddie crowds up against Richie’s back, circling an arm around to sweep over his stomach. 

“You going for a reach-around?” Richie asks, snorting. Eddie ignores him again - he’s not getting out of this. But his hand does cup softly between Richie’s legs. 

“You bet, hot stuff,” Eddie says into the skin of Richie’s shoulder, level with his forehead, the tall fucker. 

Eddie likes it, likes everything about Richie, and he’s not sure why Richie clearly doesn’t believe him. His eyes take in the view, Richie still dewy and damp, hair stuck to his forehead and chest and arms and _thighs_ in dark circles. Eddie’s fingers dance through the wiry smattering of it around Richie’s cock. 

“Eds, you don’t have to-” Richie puts a hand on Eddie’s arm, but Eddie shakes it off. 

“What? Oh yeah, it’s such a fucking chore to jerk you off while I watch,” he says, biting gently at the side of Richie’s pec. 

“Fuck,” Richie says, whimpering as Eddie’s hand strokes harder over him. He works at the head, just like Richie did to him earlier, because he knows that’s what Richie likes. Pressure and long, firm movements, a tongue to his nipple, which is where Eddie heads next. 

“You could’ve lifted me off that table,” Eddie says into his chest, breathing in the scent of him. Even through the sheen of soap, right at the center of him, it’s always there. “Fuck, Richie, you’ve been man-handling me, grabbing at me all night, I love it.” 

“Yeah?” Richie asks, bitten off as Eddie starts jerking him harder. The sound of their friends laughing echoes outside, a quiet muffle that tells Eddie they’re still in the hot tub. They have a little time, but not much. 

“God, yeah.” The moisture from the shower makes it an easy slide, his hand hot from the lingering steam, and Richie reaches back for a handful of Eddie’s ass. Eddie groans. “I can’t wait for you to fuck me tomorrow. Think I’ll finally be ready.” 

Richie bends in on himself, letting out a little “oof” like he’s been punched, and Eddie’s hand speeds up. 

“You wanna fuck me?” Eddie grins at his own reflection in the mirror, hopped up on it. Richie whines and nods, stomach clenching, and Eddie knows he’s close. God, that was fast. They’re both becoming quick shots after working each other over so thoroughly and so often. 

“Yeah, yeah, oh god, _Eddie_.” Richie’s hips are kicking out with every thrust, fucking up into Eddie’s hand, and then Eddie’s fingers are covered in come, making the slide easier, and Richie’s burying his face against Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie’s suddenly, impossibly hard. 

Richie takes a few deep breaths before turning and pulling a towel off the rack and pushing Eddie backward, leaning him against the stone next to the shower door. He throws the towel down, double folded, onto the ground and kneels in front of him. 

“Oh god, Richie-”

“Gotta take care of you,” he says, then swallows Eddie down to the root. He pulls off just as quick to add, “but keep talking.” 

“Fuck,” Eddie says, holding Richie around the neck, hands moving with the motion of his bobbing head. Eddie looks up to see himself facing the mirror, Richie naked and kneeling at his feet, the curve of his ass thrusting forward as he sucks Eddie off. 

Richie’s always loud when he’s swallowing Eddie’s dick, sloppy and moaning, thumbing over Eddie’s hip bones, and Eddie isn’t going to last long, not with the promise of Richie fucking him tomorrow, not with Richie’s forehead pinched and his eyes reverent and his tongue sweeping through the underside of Eddie’s dick every time he moves. 

“God, I love your body,” Eddie’s saying mindlessly, trying to give Richie what he wants, “love to hold your belly and your hips when I fuck you, god, you’re so gorgeous.” 

Richie moans around him, wheezing in breaths through his nose. He wraps a hand around the base of Eddie’s dick to keep himself steady, sighing and groaning in his chest, like he can’t get enough. 

“I love how you move when you’re fucking me, _shit_ , god, I can’t wait for you to fuck me, did I say that?” Eddie laughs and Richie pulls off to slobber kisses all over the inside of his thighs. 

“I fucking love your _dick_ ,” he says, licking at the sides, then taking it back in his mouth. 

Richie loves taking Eddie’s dick, every single way he can get it, however he can get it, so he’s moaning like he’s about to come, even though he just did, and Eddie’s mouth is watering as he feels himself tensing already, straining to find release. He heaves a sigh and starts pumping his hips into Richie’s face.

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna come, Richie, fuck, I’m gonna come,” he says, hands holding Richie’s cheeks, mesmerized by his mouth, stretched out and red around him. He whines when Richie moves away. 

“Babe, I love you watching me take your dick but look in the fucking mirror,” he says, voice rough and little impatient, and Eddie’s eyes snap up as Richie takes him back in between his lips and sucks _hard_.

Eddie is one second from losing it, and when he sees Richie reaching back to spread himself out he slides a hand up from Richie’s cheek to grip at his hair and pull him back and forth. 

He feels fucking _feral_ , his orgasm slamming into him like a truck. He fucks himself into Richie’s mouth, watching as Richie fingers at his own hole, so desperate for it, and then pulls out on a whim to paint Richie’s lips with come. Jerking himself hard, Richie moans throatily, mouth open and panting, and he looks so goddamn _slutty_ , Eddie almost cries with it. 

Richie licks the come off his lips as Eddie rubs greedily over his shoulders, the blurry sight of Richie’s hand holding himself open wrenching a few more drops from his cock. 

“I am going to fuck you again before this trip is over,” Eddie says, quiet, in case their friends have come back inside, he has no idea how long it’s been, and Richie buries his face in Eddie’s stomach, groaning. 

“Eds, I was far too drunk for this,” Richie says, licking at the hair of his happy trail. “You just came on my face, jesus, _fuck_ , you’re so hot.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “No, no, get up here, this was supposed to be about you being hot.” 

“I said it first, I win,” Richie says, letting Eddie tug him up by the arms, boneless and reaching immediately for a kiss. Eddie loves him like this, clingy and dopey after sex. 

“We need to get moving, I have no idea if anyone heard.” 

“Mmmm,” Richie hums, leaning down to find his pajama pants on the ground. Eddie watches him fumble for a few minutes before helping him, trying not to feel guilty for essentially dragging him in here and fucking him senseless. 

They’re dressed and comfortable by the time they’re about to pop open the door, and Richie turns back to wink at him as he twists the knob. Eddie leans up to kiss him again, fingers holding his neck, heart in his throat, ready for him to cough it up and hand it over. He’d do it again and again, every single day, for the rest of his life. 

The others really do give him a run for his money, but Eddie can’t deny that Richie’s been his favorite all along. 

No one seems to notice they were gone. There’s a giant plate of pizza rolls cooling on the counter and Bev and Ben are cuddled up at the end of the bed. Mike and Bill are swaying to the quiet music they put on for the party and Stan is back to working on the puzzle. When Eddie gets closer, he notices Stan leaning hard on his arm, propped up on the table.

He’s asleep. 

“Where is everyone sleeping?” Eddie asks Richie. Richie pops a pizza roll in his mouth and hisses as it rolls over his tongue.

“Shit, I always forget how hot these things are, fuck, um,” he says, looking around the cabin, like an extra few guest rooms are going to appear out of thin air, “I don’t, uh.” 

“We were thinking cuddle pile,” Bev says from the bed, cradling a hand around the back of Ben’s head, where he’s asleep against her chest. Mike dips Bill in the kitchen, both audibly agreeing. Stan snores. 

“I’m down!” Richie calls, slamming another pizza roll into his mouth like an idiot and flinging himself onto the bed. Ben wakes, presumably at the feel of Richie’s feet tickling his fucking six pack. 

“I’m drinking some water so I don’t wake up with a hangover,” Eddie says, marching to the kitchen. He chugs a couple glasses, hunched over the sink, first watching Bill and Mike dance themselves out and then head to join the pile, and then Stan’s slowly sinking head, landing with a slam onto the coffee table next to his puzzle. He snaps awake with a start, puzzle piece stuck to his head, and Eddie’s heart soars. 

“Where’d everyone go?” Stan asks with a yawn. Eddie finishes the piece of toast he made himself, high in fiber and carbs to soak up the alcohol, because he plans on getting railed tomorrow and he is not risking the pizza roll shits. After peeling the puzzle piece off of his head, Eddie reaches out for Stan’s hand and leads him to the bedroom, where all their friends are rather adorably snuggling on their giant bed. 

Much like the hot tub, it is not suited for seven people. Luckily, coupling up also works with sleeping, and Eddie tucks himself into the space between Mike and Richie, smack dab in the center. Richie hums at the feel of him, pulling him closer, until he’s slotted right in the circle of Richie’s arms. The weight of Mike on his other side is comforting, and he’s not sure if it’s his hand or Bill’s that comes to lazily rest on his hip, but he doesn’t really care. He feels surrounded and warm, and he looks up to see Stan staring down at the tangled heap of them. 

“Coming, Stan?” Eddie asks, already much sleepier than he was before. Richie turns a little and Eddie whines, already missing the contact. Richie’s hand stretches out toward Stan, fingers wiggling. Stan crosses his arms, shaking his head.

“Nope.” 

Eddie almost considers getting up to drag Stan in bed with them, and he feels Richie tense, but then Stan is emitting a high-pitched shriek and rocketing his body full-force onto all of them in a belly flop. 

The whole bed erupts in pain and shock, Ben snapping awake when Stan inadvertently kicks him in the throat. 

After minutes of squirming and apologies, Stan settles in behind Richie, snoring right into his ear almost as soon as they quiet down. 

“Good night, John Boy,” Richie says to the group, receiving an agitated mumble in return. Eddie kisses at the bob in his throat. Richie cranes his neck down to find his lips. They sigh into each other for a few minutes, kissing gently and quietly, holding it between them. Eddie’s blinking sleepily, meandering between darkness and the soft press of Richie’s tongue at his mouth, when Ben clears his throat. 

“How much sex have you guys had in this bed?”

Eddie snorts. “We’ve changed the sheets, man.” 

Ben hums, pleased with the answer, until Richie adds, “Actually, not after this morning.” 

Eddie covers his face while Richie cackles, threatening to wake the whole bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [tinyangryeddie](https://tinyangryeddie.tumblr.com/) or Twitter, now, apparently, where I'm [camerasparring](https://twitter.com/camerasparring), but I'm new and don't expect much lol 
> 
> Thank you again for reading, and let me know if you liked it!


	4. walk through fire for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie wakes to Richie’s arm flung over him, his mouth hanging open directly in Eddie’s face. He lightly pushes Richie’s cheek so his horrid morning breath points north, but then he registers the body on the other side of him. And the ones at his feet. And, opening his eyes, the blurry form of another bracketing Richie in. He pops up suddenly, Richie’s arm falling from around him, to Bev curled up at end, cup of coffee already warming her hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE IT IS, FRIENDS! We have come to the end. I'm sorry this took me a little while longer to get out, this chapter fought me, it's the longest one, and I had an interlude to write an entire 50k AU fic (it's a rom com AU that is finished you should maybe read if you want some plot and porn click [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22323910/chapters/53324413) please! end self-promotion) 
> 
> I really, really loved writing this fic, and I love this universe, and this definitely won't be the last Sex House fic, but it might be a little while. 
> 
> Big thank you, all the time, to Heather, for inspiring me continually and coming up with the best porny and non-porny ideas. LOVE YOU FRAND.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me, lovely readers, I hope you enjoy!! (Heed the new tags!)

Over the past few days, Eddie has gotten used to waking up in a strange bed. It’s practically a firm marshmallow with an overabundance of pillows, but Richie is always there, pressed tightly against him, snuffling into his neck or the small of his back, depending on how much he moved in his sleep. 

This morning is no different, Richie’s arm flung over him, his mouth hanging open directly in Eddie’s face. He lightly pushes Richie’s cheek so his horrid morning breath points north, but then he registers the body on the other side of him. And the ones at his feet. And, opening his eyes, the blurry form of another bracketing Richie in. He pops up suddenly, Richie’s arm falling from around him, to Bev curled up at end, cup of coffee already warming her hand. 

“Oh,” he says, feeling embarrassed for almost panicking. “Sorry. Didn’t expect-”

“All the bedmates? Yeah, it overwhelmed me for a second, too,” she smiles softly at him and turns to grab another cup of coffee off the floor. Steam flows, fogging over the red of her hair, and Eddie accepts it gladly. “Poured this for you.”

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Eddie says, cutting a line through the steam with his breath. 

She nods and takes a sip. “I’m glad we are, too.” 

“Sometimes he has really fucking good ideas,” Eddie says aimlessly, pushing a slow hand through Richie’s hair. He’s not sure if he’s trying to wake him, he kind of likes the peace of listening to all their friends, gentle and snoozing, breathing in a heap of warmth, so far from where they started as frightened children. 

“Yeah,” Bev agrees, and Eddie sees her watching Ben in the same way, eyes lost in the memories. “I’m glad you guys got away. You deserve it, Eds. After all these years.” 

“Stop talking about me,” Richie mumbles into his half of the pillow he’s sharing with Stan. They haven’t really been whispering, but the alcohol usually makes this group heavy sleepers. Not that Richie isn’t usually.

Eddie presses a hand to Richie’s mouth. 

“Shush, we’re having a beautiful morning. Don’t ruin it.” Eddie grins at Bev. 

“How _dare_ \- mmph-” Richie tries to say, but Eddie plugs his nostrils quickly, just to scare him. He chokes on air, limbs flailing, and three groaning heads lift in response. 

“Richie, you asshole, you woke everyone up,” Bev says, eyebrows pinched. 

Richie’s catching his breath, now free of Eddie’s fingers and their assault, but he manages to snag one in the retreat. 

“You are both way too cute in the morning,” Richie grumbles, glancing between them as Bill and Mike lie back down to curl around each other. Stan rolls off the bed and onto his feet in one swift motion.

“Ugh,” Stan groans. Eddie finally tastes his coffee now that it’s cooler, free hand still tangled up with a sleepy Richie’s.

“Sleep well, Staniel?” Richie asks, flopping back onto the bed and wiggling his toes over Bev’s thigh. Ben’s still snoring at her side. 

Stan grunts. “Fine.” He pinches at a wet spot on his shirt. “But why the fuck do you sweat so much?” 

“Just blessed, I guess,” Richie answers, kissing at the hair on Eddie’s ring finger. Eddie nods solemnly at Stan, who stumbles to the bathroom. 

Everyone wanders around, showering, dressing, draining two pots of coffee and what seems like the sink’s fill of water for the whole morning before their daily activities. 

They’re off on a small hike, a swim and then the afternoon at a brewery out of town. Eddie’s surprised they haven’t made it there yet, but Richie’s grocery shopping was effective and they haven’t had much cause to eat out. 

Or leave. The bed. 

Thankfully, none of them are _too_ hungover. Eddie would wager to say Richie probably got the worst of it. He tries not to feel too bad - he assumes coming far too many times makes you prone to dehydration and a lowered immune system, but he decides not to linger on it, just spends the whole day shoving Richie’s water bottle into his hands and kissing him when he looks too miserable. 

Luckily Richie brought some medicinal gummies along, and it does work wonders, but it also makes him handsy. 

Eddie spends the whole hike with a hand on or nearing his ass, if he’s able to slap it away quick enough. Eventually he gives up and hikes _behind_ Richie, for he is far stronger man than his husband ever will be. Nevermind the lump that forms in his throat when Richie sways his hips for show, or when he stops abruptly so he and Eddie collide, and then drags their bodies together for two seconds too long. 

Eddie’s never going to be able to hike again without popping a boner. 

Richie is always handsy, especially with Eddie, _always_ with Eddie. But he wasn’t like this in the in-between. Anyone Eddie has ever met from Richie’s non-Losers-group past finds his tactile affection a bit bizarre. 

Eddie’s used to it, the fibbing elbows jammed into his side, the arm skating down his own as they shoved themselves through doorways side by side, any opportunity to envelop him as a kid, and now, any chance to get a fucking hand on him. But maybe that’s what it always was.

But when Richie came back to Derry, his hands were his own. Shoved in his pockets, clinging with damp nerves to the stretch of his own thighs. It took a day to get him back - his Richie. Arms around him, pulling them together, for what he thought was the last time, and now it doesn’t seem he’ll ever give it up again - that opportunity to touch. To always know where Eddie is, to soak him up for the moment, because any moment might end the wrong way, and they both know it all too well. 

“Okay, maybe this view was worth the relentless groping,” Eddie grumbles when they get to the top of the lookout. Richie grins as the rest of them scatter, stretching out on patches of rocks and the small bench placed there. 

“This is gorgeous, guys,” Ben agrees. 

“Yeah, it’d be a great place for a picnic,” Bill says, and Eddie hears Richie snort behind him. “We should have brought- what?”

Eddie tries in vain to wave their attention away with an insistent hand, but Richie is cackling like a howler monkey. 

“Let’s, uh. Where’s this swimming hole, Rich?” he asks, slapping at Richie’s side, trying his best to tamp down his own giggles. 

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ ,” Eddie yells as Richie drags him along by the hand, both of them careening off the edge of a ledge, straight into the water. They’re the last ones there, mostly due to Eddie’s insistence he would just walk down the rocks into the water like a _normal_ person, but then he saw that light in Richie’s eyes and geared himself up for the inevitable rough and tumble of Vacation Richie. Who didn’t seem all that different from Normal, Every Day Richie. 

“You have to admit that was fucking rad,” Richie says as they’re gasping out of the water, his first opportunity to be right, and Eddie lets him have it. 

“Yeah, okay, dickwad, that was more fun than slipping on rocks and breaking my fucking neck, I’ll give you that.” 

Richie’s mouth opens wide to spit something back when a loud shriek emits from where they just jumped. 

Two blonde children peer over the ledge at the group of them, quietly watching, but then Eddie sees the source of the noise as a woman’s head comes into view. 

“I’m not sure you’re supposed to be _swimming_ there,” she yells again, and Richie makes a show of plugging his ears. 

“It’s okay, ma’am, we’ve got a permit,” Stan crows back up. Eddie whirls on him and he shrugs.

The woman huffs, clenching a child’s hand in each of hers. 

“Well I’m not letting my children get into _filthy_ water,” she tells them, eyeing each of the kids in an exaggerated swing of her head and turning to leave, the silent little ones in tow. Eddie’s stomach swirls, anxiety like indigestion, burning at the bottom of his throat. 

“Okay?” Ben says, laughing back at the rest of them. 

Richie’s at his back before he knows it, crowding against him, somehow-already pruned fingers grabbing at his waist. 

“Who the fuck invited Karen to this party?” he whispers in Eddie’s ear, low and strong, and Eddie leans back against him. 

“Yeah, she should mind her fuckin’ business,” Eddie answers, huffing a soft laugh. Richie hooks his chin over Eddie’s shoulder. Sometimes Eddie thinks it makes him feel tall, like a dog crawling up the body of a human just to prove a point. 

“A-fuckin’-men, Spaghetti.” 

Richie holds him like that for awhile. They watch their friends dunking each other, cooling off in the shaded alcove, trying and failing to get a game of chicken going, because although they’re all relatively flexible, none of them can contend with the number of bony limbs jotting across the blue sky and directly into Bill’s, and then Stan’s eyes. 

Eddie closes his eyes and focuses on right here. The stick of their wet suits. Their chests bare and dipping with breathless laughter. Richie’s voice in his ear, Richie’s hand in his, Richie’s ring on his finger. He lets his heart swim in it for a moment, then cups some water between his hands. 

Separating them to turn around, he dumps it over Richie’s head. Richie sputters, flinging himself forward, blanketing Eddie on instinct, and if Eddie is a little slow on pushing him off, well, at least Karen isn’t around to see it. 

“I can’t believe I’m being blamed for this,” Richie says later, fingering circles each of the small glasses in their second flight of beers. Eddie smacks his hand away and Richie snickers. “They’re mine now!” 

Eddie ignores him. A little.

“You’re the one who yelled, ‘let’s launch off it!’ when you saw the ledge,” Eddie tells him, yanking a lager off the tray, just for a taste. 

It’s a weird little brewery, tucked in the middle of nowhere, just like most of the sites on this trip. Old, chipped picnic tables all congregate on a giant circle of laid stones, lights strung where there’s shelter and bird poop where there’s not. 

Eddie’s been driving everyone around all day, a little too anxious to let anyone else do it, or rather, too anxious to be a passenger. He’s used to Richie driving, actually prefers it that way, because he’s usually pretty reliable. Something about being out of New York traffic and in LA instead changes a man. And this man definitely couldn’t sit in stop and go traffic for hours behind the wheel. 

There would be carnage in his wake. 

Richie’s easier - tapping into a chill that always sees them to their destination, no matter the conditions. Always taking care of him. Mooning over at him, just like he’s doing now.

“What can I say, I enjoy being a horrible influence on the youth,” Richie says. 

“You didn’t even know they were there,” Bev reminds him, swirling some amber variety in her mouth. Richie waves her off. 

“Oh my god,” Eddie says, realizing, “our kids are going to fucking love you, aren’t they? You’re gonna be the fun dad and I’ll be stuck with all the shitty jobs, like discipline and making them eat their vegetables.” He throws back the rest of the almond-colored lager, not entirely fond of the taste but delighted by the camaraderie of a beer with the gang, when Richie’s fist hits the cracked wood of the picnic table.

Eddie shifts on the edge of the bench while Richie starts coughing next to him. He looks up, alarmed, to see the rest of the group staring. But not at Richie. 

“You guys are gonna have kids?” Ben asks, voice shaky. Richie turns to him, red-faced and gasping, and Eddie realizes what he said. 

“Oh, uh.” His head spins, and Richie’s still staring at him, wiping the frantic spit from his mouth, wide-eyed. “I mean, yeah? Maybe? We haven’t-”

“You want to have my baby, Eds?” Richie asks, wobbly-voiced. 

Eddie grins. “And lose my figure?” 

Stan buries his head in his hands and Richie laughs so hard the whole flight of beer almost comes back up. 

Eddie drives home with Richie’s hand resting firmly on his thigh and the contented silence of his friends in the backseat. 

  
  


Everyone leaves in a mess of hugs and chatter. 

Stan’s staying in a hotel close to the airport because of an early flight back.

Bev, Ben, Mike and Bill have some sort of factory tour planned, then a long road trip home. Neither of them ask who the fuck booked a _factory_ tour, but Eddie figures they’ll find out later when they can get the full story.

Eddie misses them as soon as they leave, like he always does, an ache that courses through him. But he and Richie share it. They always share it.

After the last car pulls out of the dirt driveway, Eddie flops onto the bed next to where Richie is already laid down. He settles in the crook of Richie’s arm, where he fits best.

“I told Stan to text us once he gets in, but our reception is kind of shit here,” he breathes into the side of Richie’s chest. He presses a kiss there to follow. “We’ll have to walk to the top of the hill tomorrow afternoon.” 

“If we’re not busy with other things,” Richie answers, eyes already closed. Eddie’s smile stretches against Richie’s skin. He inhales deeply, the sting of Richie’s sweat in his nostrils, pressed against him, tired and safe. 

“Well you don’t look like you’re up for anything tonight,” Eddie says. Richie hums, and Eddie feels it against his cheek, rumbling through them. 

“Dinner’s sittin’ like a rock in my stomach,” Richie tells him, smoothing a hand over his abdomen. Eddie’s hand follows in sympathy. “Those steak fries were monstrous. I thought deep-throating was hard, but those babies gave your dick a run for its money.”

Eddie scoffs. “You decided to eat them each in a single bite. Don’t come crying to me when you have horrendous heartburn tomorrow.”

“Mmmm,” Richie mumbles with a pout. Eddie sits up to bend over Richie’s body, peppering kisses onto his bloated tummy. 

“And you had most of that third flight of beers,” Eddie says between breaths. A hand pets over his hair, and Eddie pushes up into it. 

It feels soft and reverent, being alone again. Eddie’s not sure why they can’t do this for the rest of their lives. He’s tried not to take any of his time, his _life_ with Richie for granted, but the syrupy intimacy of several days soaking up each other’s attention is consuming. 

“Not my fault _someone_ almost made me cry. I had to drown my cheesy tears in sample beer and pork belly sliders,” Richie says from above him. 

Eddie pops his head back up. “What?” 

Richie’s eyes fling open. He fists his hand over his stomach. 

“You, uh. You really wanna have kids?” he asks, and Eddie’s face heats. 

Oh. This.

They stare at each other for a moment, tension slipping between them slowly. Eddie blinks a few times. He’s far too tired for this conversation. The roasted salmon he had at the brewery wasn’t nearly as filling as Richie’s fried monstrosity, but after a day of heightened vigilance at keeping everyone together and being out in public for the first time in days, even his bones are aching with fatigue. 

Eddie presses a hand to his forehead and sighs. 

“I mean, we’ve talked about it before.”

Richie balks. “Yeah, in a like, ‘man, it’d be a fuckin’ trip to see a combination of the two of us, I hope it gets my sense of humor and your unbridled zest for life and we can dress it up in tiny fanny packs.’ But never _seriously_. Never, like, as an actual serious suggestion.” 

Eddie watches Richie on the bed, still flat on his back, eyes wide and a little frightened. 

Richie still hasn’t learned that Eddie is up for pretty much anything when it comes to him. Even moving to LA and owning a fucking pool. Even looking like a douche, because it means they get to be together, and he gets to see Richie skinny dipping at least twice a month. 

Eddie is still a fearful man, despite everything. He worries and he has anxiety - he doesn’t think it’s something that’s ever going to go away. But Richie makes him feel sure. All the time. It’s a truth he holds deep in his heart, never wavering in its solidity because he has a reminder in the form of a ridiculous human always insisting on making sure he knows. 

“Well I guess I’m serious about it,” Eddie tells him, resting a hand on his chest. Richie’s lips wobble into a small smile. “What do you think?”

“I didn’t-” Richie’s throat catches, and Eddie’s hand fists around his t-shirt before he starts again. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to. Because, uh. Because of your mom,” he finishes, and it steals the breath from Eddie’s lungs. 

It’s not like the question of children doesn’t immediately come along with a whole host of his own parental baggage. Myra mentioned kids a few times during the course of their marriage, and it always sent a shiver up his spine, never sure why, never able to pin it on anything specific. But he knows now. 

He knows that suffocating ice running through his chest is a response from the years of living with his mother. Being raised by her. Feeling beholden to any demand or sprig of paranoia. A cycle of abuse he never wanted to continue, branded in his heart and brain forever, no matter how hard he tries to scrub it away. 

But with Richie… well. To say things are different is an understatement, but it’s not just the difference. It’s the _feeling_. The feeling that they can overcome anything, even Eddie’s own mangled brain, even the trauma they’ve spent years unraveling and processing together. When he thinks about having kids with Richie, sleepless nights with a baby, going to parent-teacher conferences, navigating the complications of a teenager - it feels like they could do it. Just like Stan said. The benefits outweigh the risks. 

Eddie’s hand skates up from Richie’s shirt to cup at his jaw. 

“Yeah,” he says, and it feels like it contains multitudes he can’t quite put into words, “but it could be better.” 

Richie grabs at his wrist and kisses right at the center, right over his pulse. 

“Could be,” Richie says, eyes bright, lips dancing in the stirrings of a smile, “Could be a horrible mistake.”

Eddie laughs. “Definitely could be.”

“As long as we’re in it together, Spaghetti-man.” 

He laces their hands together, and Eddie’s heart pulls hard in his chest. He lays back down, and Richie’s hand comes up to grip at his shoulder.

“Might cramp our sex life,” Eddie says. He’s already a bit disappointed they didn’t have time to do it today, but they’re both seconds away from sleep just from being horizontal. Richie pulls him a little closer and Eddie yawns. 

“Nah,” Richie yawns back, “even covered in baby spit you’ll never be able to keep your hands off this fine piece of ass.” 

He digs a finger between two of Richie’s ribs and pinches, feeling bold. Richie squeals and Eddie leans over to kiss him.

They both know he’s right. 

The next morning, though, it feels like the other way around.

Richie drags a thumb down the crack of Eddie’s ass, prodding at his hole, and Eddie knuckles at the counter with a stinging grip. He turns his head quick to see their reflection, to watch Richie’s finger slide in deep. 

“Shit,” he groans, bucking his hips back when Richie adds another. “Fuck, fuck.” 

“Yeah, you’re ready,” Richie says, voice low. Eddie watches him in the mirror, standing behind him, dick hard and leaking between his legs. 

Eddie has a love-hate relationship with morning sex, but this trip has made a true believer out of him. Richie’s hands are generous and all over, heavy with the sleep they woke out of no more than half an hour ago, both of them raring to go after a whole nine hours. 

Richie’s been fingering him almost the entire time, after they brushed their teeth and showered and Eddie caught wind of Richie’s morning wood making a delayed appearance. Now Eddie’s body is bowed over the sink, both of their eyes glued to the mirror next to them, his ass rocking back in messy thrusts, trying to meet the press of Richie’s hands and get _more_. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping,” Richie says, amazed, and Eddie looks down to see drops of precome on the tile below. It punches a groan out of him. 

“Your fingers, _guh_ -” Richie reaches for his prostate again, rubbing over it like he’s taking his time. 

“Hmm?” Richie asks, leaning down to latch his mouth around Eddie’s shoulder. 

“Oh god, you’re, _fuck_ , Richie-”

“Alright, you’re ready,” Richie says again. Beads of sweat fly with the force of Eddie’s nod. He plants his feet a little wider apart, his eyes stuck on the fucking mirror, on Richie stroking over his own leaking cock and lining up to push into him. 

Eddie’s lightheaded from Richie’s hands on him, and the moment his dick touches him, his vision whites out around the edges.

“Nnngh,” is all Eddie can string together, stretching around Richie and desperate for it, clawing at the smooth stone under his hands for any grip on reality. Richie’s hands are pinned on his hips, splitting him in half, and it’s fucking amazing. 

“God, this view is incredible,” Richie sighs when he bottoms out, watching the press of their hips together in the mirror. 

“Fuck, I told you,” Eddie laughs, breathless, Richie’s cock settled deep inside him. “Now move, I wanna watch you fuck me.” 

Richie’s chuckles and nods, pulling out slowly. Both of them moan, mesmerized by the sight, and Eddie wants to cry, it’s too good, but he also wants to watch, wants to see every moment of Richie inside of him.

He really fucking missed this. And they’re doing this again, as soon as it’s over. And again. And maybe again, if Richie can get it up. 

Eddie wants Richie in him all day, just like that fucking plug. 

A plug that can fuck him into another universe. 

Richie’s pressing in sharp and direct, nailing Eddie’s prostate almost every time. It’s slow, but every thrust up is delicious, and Eddie throws his hips back to get a little more. Richie’s hands slip off his hips to trace the line of his bent spine and Eddie’s thighs shiver.

“You okay?” Richie asks, hand reaching around to palm at his cock. Eddie forces a dry swallow and nods.

“Yeah, I’m uh,” Eddie tries, jolting with a pitched laugh when Richie grinds in hard. “I’m really fucking good, Rich, keep doing that.” 

Richie leers at him in the mirror. Eddie blushes, despite the dick in his ass, despite the thin layer of sweat covering the both of them, fresh out of a steamy shower and fucking like they have all the time in the world, because they do.

“You missed me bad, huh?” Richie asks, and Eddie drops his head a little, too wrapped up in the sight of their hips knocking together in a torturous grind, the feel of Richie’s eyes on him, the way he’s haphazardly trying to jerk Eddie off while he watches. It’s all crooked and clingy, fucking shallow, then off-center and breathless with laughter. 

Eddie’s full, in every sense of the word, when Richie comes hard, forehead sticking to the center of Eddie’s back, and they breathe together until Richie drags him back to bed. 

  
  


“I knew this was a good idea,” Richie says. Eddie turns back to see him staring greedily, surveying his territory as Eddie shifts to get comfortable, bent at the waist over the wedge.

Richie dug it out of the closet and threw it into the middle of the bed this time, pushing at Eddie until he got the clue and draped himself in half. 

“Though this seems a bit narcissistic,” Richie says, thoughtfully, as he lays down and starts to lap his own come out of Eddie’s asshole.

The hand Eddie’s using to hold himself open falls to his side.

“Richie, don’t-” 

Richie’s tongue dips over him again and Eddie’s leg jerks. 

“Hey, babe, I’m into it, clearly, don’t get all self-conscious,” he says into Eddie’s skin. 

Eddie grunts and lets Richie take over, his face prickling. It’s dirty, but he feels taken care of, hollowed out and drowsy from a good night’s sleep and a great fuck. Richie wanted to clean him up, pay him some attention, and he was loathe to disobey. 

His dick is pressed tight to the fabric of the wedge, his chest flush with the afterglow of his orgasm, and Richie’s hands are stroking up his back while he licks in furling circles. 

“Eds, I could fuck you again,” Richie groans out, pressing over Eddie’s spine with a big hand.

“God, maybe a little later,” Eddie laughs, “I might need a break, you kinda fucked me stupid.” 

“Your ass is calling to me today,” Richie groans, his tongue licking into Eddie’s hole, deep and sharp. 

“ _Fuck_ , I can tell,” Eddie answers, craning around to watch Richie over his shoulder, his heart tugging in his chest at Richie’s flushed cheeks and loose smile, his lips wet with his own come, which, yes, _gross_ , but also Eddie really did get fucked stupid, and he wants to throw every instinct he has in the garbage and kiss Richie senseless.

Instead he turns back, buries his head in his hands and groans, “I really love you.” 

“Aw, babe-”

“I told you,” Eddie says. “Dick stupid.”

“Alright, let’s go make some food and get some coffee in you,” Richie answers, stepping off the bed and patting at Eddie’s hip. “You’re gonna need some carbs if we intend to break our previous record of three times in a day.” 

Eddie scoffs, peeling himself off the wedge and watching Richie’s bare ass bend over, searching for a clean pair of underwear. 

“Now who’s being ambitious?” Eddie asks, even though that was his plan, too, keeping Richie inside him as long as possible today, but Richie’s always responded positively to being goaded. 

“And you better fucking brush your teeth again,” Eddie tells him. He wants to make out later, _a lot_ , and he’s not in the business of swapping come-soaked spit back and forth.

Richie slips on a pair of blue boxers and winks at him before heading back into the bathroom. 

Eddie’s about to crack an egg against the counter when he feels it. 

“Don’t you dare,” he warns, but he’s pushing back ever so slightly, fitting the hard, clothed line of Richie’s dick in the crack of his ass.

Richie’s hands cover his hips. “Just stay right there, just wanna-”

He grinds forward, forcing their hips together, and Eddie’s still so sensitive, and Richie’s so hard, shirtless and barefoot, standing behind him at the stove, and they both moan.

Eddie grips fingers around the egg in his hand until he realizes it’s an egg, and sets it gingerly on the counter and grabs hold of the oven handle while Richie lines up for another dry thrust. Eddie pushes back into it, and Richie holds him tighter. 

“Fuck yeah, that’s good,” he bites out, and Eddie smiles, hanging his head and palming at his own cock, already half-hard. 

“Richie,” he gasps. Richie pushes at the waistband of Eddie’s boxer briefs, dropping them to the floor and fucking up against him. Something about the friction is stunning, and Eddie whines as Richie stutters out breaths into his neck. 

“Can you go again?” Richie asks, and Eddie groans, nodding.

Richie’s boxers hit the floor in a rush. 

The kitchen sex calms them for awhile. 

Richie brushes his teeth again and they have breakfast. Being fucked twice before eating leaves Eddie’s legs a little shaky, so Richie climbs the hill to text Stan, who arrived safely home to his family by lunch.

There’s a new game Richie brought that he insists on trying, so Eddie putters around cleaning and folding laundry for awhile before settling next to him on the couch. Eddie promised himself he’d at least try to read Bill’s book on this trip, so he tucks his feet under Richie’s thigh, throws a blanket over them, and cracks it open in his lap. 

By the time Eddie hits page fifty, he’s completely lost focus. 

He’s read the same paragraph four times, and he’s not even sure he could tell you the main character’s name. It’s not really Bill’s fault, though Eddie’s never been able to get through any of his books. But today, Richie is to blame. 

He’s alternating between biting his lip as he’s battling and button mashing, body vibrating on the cushions, and grunting in frustration when he inevitably loses. Eddie can’t help but watch him, and at first he’s annoyed with the constant interruptions, until Richie storms off to get a beer and comes back just in time for Eddie to see him sloppily tonguing away a drip spilling down the side of his bottle. 

Eddie finally gives up, shoving the book onto the coffee table and climbing into Richie’s lap. 

It somehow makes Richie grumpier. 

“The _fuck_ , dude,” Richie grunts, leaning heavily to the right so he can see around Eddie’s body. “I’m not anywhere close to a save point, you’re gonna fuck up all this progress.” 

“Oh my god, you’ve been doing nothing but losing,” Eddie shoots back, settling his legs on either side of Richie’s comfortably. Richie glares up at him, still jerking buttons behind Eddie’s back. 

“Fuck _you_ , this time I’ve got it in the bag.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie says, then bends to bite where Richie’s shoulder meets his neck. He jumps, controller smacking Eddie’s ass. Eddie hisses, but dives back in. 

“I am never fucking you again if you mess this up for me,” Richie says. His voice is heavy and a little mean, and Eddie’s stupid from all the sex but it’s also kind of... _doing_ it for him. 

He grinds his hips back on Richie’s lap. Richie’s hand snaps to grab him around the middle. 

“Eddie,” he warns, quietly. It goes straight to Eddie’s head. He wants this _now_. 

“You better get to that fucking save point quick, Mr. Confident,” he tells Richie, kicking up the speed of his hips, just a little. It still makes Richie groan, his face flushing red. 

“Eds, it’s gonna be at least a couple minutes,” he says, strained. Eddie huffs.

“C’mon, Rich-”

“I don’t know what you want me to _do_ , I’m not just gonna-”

Eddie presses down, whining, the quick swelling of Richie’s cock making him harder. He wants-

“Want your cock in me, sir,” he groans. Richie freezes, face falling slack. 

“You wanna-”

Eddie rolls his hips down again. “Yes.”

The controller clatters to the floor, and both of Richie’s hands are sweeping frantically across his back to pull him closer.

“Fuck, fuck, c’mere,” Richie says into his mouth, kissing him hard, hands on his hips, and then he’s fucking up into him, fast and hard, through their clothes again, and Eddie wonders why they ever get dressed. 

They had the safeword talk this morning after Richie fucked him in the kitchen, when they slipped into some begging and Eddie called him “sir” again and he came almost immediately. 

Richie’s suggestions were generally horrible, starting with “minions” and ending with “banana,” and eventually Eddie just wanted it over, so they went with “minions,” because they both agreed it had literally no sexual appeal whatsoever, and Eddie ignored Richie’s insistence that he resembled one that one time he got the flu real bad and camped out on a plastic sheet in the bathroom.

The pet name talk was a little more charged. They both agreed, pupils blown and hands splayed on each other’s thighs, that they were _more_ than fine. 

Now they’re rolling together on the couch in a harsh huddle of gasps and moans and the clicking of their teeth, and Eddie feels a painful spike of need. He pants and throws his head back, bouncing in Richie’s lap, against his dick. Richie’s pushing up just as hard, like he’s trying to break through two layers of fabric and fuck Eddie to death. Eddie would let him. 

Richie’s eyes are dark as he watches Eddie on top of him, giving him what he wants. Eddie feels used and so fucking turned on his vision is a little blurry, but he doesn’t want them both coming in their pants, not with Richie staring at him like this. He slows the motion of his hips.

Richie growls impatiently, pitching forward.

“You’re just asking for it, baby boy,” Richie says, and Eddie loses his balance, because _fuck, yes_ , but Richie’s there to catch him and shuffle him to a stand, moving to the end of the couch. He puts his glasses on the table and wipes the sweat from his brow.

Then he bends Eddie over the end and shoves down his sweatpants and underwear in one fell swoop. 

“Oh my god,” Eddie gasps. Richie presses two fingers into him, slick with what Eddie assumes is his spit, where he’s still open and stretched from this morning. His arms almost give out, but Richie is relentless, holding him up around the middle, rutting against his thigh as he scissors his fingers inside. 

“You’re always so fucking ready for it,” Richie says, breathless behind him, and his voice is low and rough and desperate like when he was fucking Eddie’s face, and Eddie’s head buzzes with pleasure. He wiggles his hips back and grabs at the blanket to put under him so he doesn’t ruin the couch. 

Richie’s licking sloppily over Eddie’s back and Eddie’s drooling into the cushions by the time he’s ready. Richie leaves him for a second to find the lube, and Eddie’s not sure if they need it, but then Richie lines up and slams in and sets a brutal pace right off the bat. He’s thrusting hard and fast and tight and Eddie braces himself and just takes it. 

“So- you fuck me so good, sir,” Eddie grits out. 

“Yeah, you like that, baby boy?” Richie pumps into him deep, grinding him against the couch, spreading a hand out over his back to press him down. 

“Yes, yeah, so good,” he says again, because it’s all he can think to do as Richie steadily fucks his brain into mush. 

It’s fast and focused. Richie’s hand slides from holding him hard around the hip to push at his thigh, spreading his legs a little further and the long, smooth slide shatters something in Eddie’s chest. He tries to push back, but Richie’s all over him, keeping him in place. 

“You want me to keep fucking you like this, baby boy?” he asks, and Eddie almost sobs with it, Richie’s dick taking him apart so nicely, he can’t fucking focus. 

“I- sir, _god_ ,” he gasps.

“I think I want you to ride me again, baby,” he says, and Eddie whines, shame burning at his face, “Wanna see you bouncing on my dick, taking it so good, like you always do.” 

Richie pulls out and leaves Eddie reeling, chest heaving, but Richie takes care of him. He spreads the blanket out and takes a seat, pulling at Eddie’s hips to lower back down on his cock, and Eddie buries his face into Richie’s shoulder and wails. He loves when Richie treats him so well, fucks him so perfectly, tells him what to do. 

At the first thrust of Richie’s hips, Eddie’s not sure he has the stamina to fuck himself for long. But then Richie’s jack-hammering him up and down, doing all the work, and Eddie’s completely content to go along for the ride. 

Actually, he’s fucking _ecstatic_. 

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , yes,” Eddie groans, anchoring himself on Richie’s shoulders. He’s trying to keep his eyes open, because Richie’s watching him hungrily, sucking on his nipples and biting anywhere he can reach, and Eddie loves the way his mouth hangs open, and the way it sometimes curves into a dirty smile, ‘cause that’s what Eddie fell in love with first, Richie’s stupid fucking smile, and it leaves him floating on a wave of lust and love and happiness that’s cresting over him every time Richie beams at him. 

Their bodies are colliding in a loud, filthy train of slaps and then Eddie tilts his hips back just right and it’s so perfect he _screams_. His dick is leaking between them, and Richie reaches up to fist around it so Eddie’s fucking up and down, pressure from both ends. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna come hard for me, baby,” Richie slurs around the jerk of his hips.

“Make me come, sir, _please_ ,” Eddie says, and he already feels it clawing at him, ripping dark and needy at his abdomen. 

“Yeah, _yeah_.”

“Fuck, _Richie_ ,” Eddie says, as Richie’s thrusts go shallow, grazing past his prostate every time. Eddie slaps a hand to the back of the couch to hold on, shocked with pleasure, leaning down to kiss messily at Richie’s mouth. Richie swipes a tongue over Eddie’s bottom lip and jerks him hard. 

“Gonna fuckin’ come in you,” Richie grunts into his mouth, and Eddie clings to him, wants it so badly he can barely breathe-

“Say it-”

Richie groans, and Eddie takes over jerking himself off, working himself back on Richie’s cock as he comes apart, and Richie pulls him down again and again, grinding his hips up until he’s gasping.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Richie says, and Eddie’s almost past the point of no return, so he rocks back in forth in a daze. 

“Yeah, sir, fuck my ass,” he breathes, totally lost in it, and Richie grunts hard.

“ _God,_ I’m coming, baby boy, _fuck_ , you’re making me come,” he says in a rush, and everything fades out for a minute while Eddie paints Richie’s chest in ropes of come. 

They kiss and kiss and Eddie can’t really feel his mouth but he knows it’s pressed against Richie’s and that’s enough to keep him grounded in the moment. Richie’s still deep inside, hips twitching up with the aftershocks, groaning low in his chest, and Eddie opens his eyes to watch him come down. His face is pink, and when he sees Eddie watching him, he reaches his arms around to envelop him. 

Eddie sighs when he feels Richie fingering at where they’re connected, where Richie is softening inside him, where Richie just came _again_ , and he feels warm and relaxed and he’s buzzing from head to toe. He wants to hold Richie in him for the rest of the night, but he’s already feeling a little sore, and experience tells him he only has a few minutes before he’ll _really_ regret this. 

But Richie fucked him so good, and called him baby boy while he was coming, just as Eddie had suggested earlier, painted red from humiliation, and Richie’s sleepy and sated against him, licking into his mouth, so Eddie settles into it for a little longer. 

When they break apart, Eddie shakily presses up and leans back to grab a few tissues. Richie snatches them from his hand and eases himself out, cleaning Eddie up as best he can in a pinch. He holds a gentle hand around the back of Eddie’s neck as he lays them down onto the couch, cuddling Eddie between his arms, and Eddie is bare-assed and exhausted, but he lets it happen. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” Richie says, kissed into Eddie’s hair, and Eddie laughs. 

“My ass thanks you for your service,” he answers, and Richie grips him tighter as they dissolve into a fit of giggles. 

“Is it horrible that I’m already sad this is almost over? Should I not be thinking about that?” Eddie says when they calm down, and Richie grunts behind him. Eddie’s wrapped shoddily in the blanket, but he can still feel the warm, dewy heat of Richie’s body. 

“I’ve still got a few things up my sleeve for tomorrow, don’t you worry,” he says, and Eddie smiles, lifting Richie’s arm, bracketed over his, to cover it in kisses. 

“Better than that?” 

“Could anything be better than that? Like, fuck, Eds, ‘fuck my ass,’ are you kidding me?” Richie asks, and Eddie reaches back to slap at his chest.

“Don’t pretend like that’s not what made you come,” Eddie says.

“Oh, it did. That was next level.”

Eddie hums. “Yeah, that was top ten.” 

Richie pulls back. “Top _ten_? What the fuck is number one?”

“You know what number one is. We’ve talked about this,” Eddie tells him. 

“I do not and we _have_ not. You’re just ranking our sexcapades without me now?”

Eddie tries to thrust an elbow back into Richie’s chest but Richie wraps around him and pins him down. 

“Was it the mirror?”

Eddie giggles despite himself. “No, but that’s number two.”

“You are such a shit.” Richie blows a stream of air down Eddie’s neck, and Eddie squirms against him. 

“Okay, okay, it was our first time, you idiot,” Eddie says, and Richie’s limbs suddenly go slack with remembering. “I’m a fucking sap, just like you, is that what you want to hear?” 

Eddie’s breathing heavily when Richie’s arms come around him again, this time much softer. He kisses at the back of Eddie’s neck for a few minutes until they’re relaxed, holding each other, sunken into the cushions.

“I’ll give you that one,” Richie says, finally, and Eddie’s back to smiling, lips pressed gently to the hair on Richie’s arm, “but this just now was a _very_ close second.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Eddie concedes.

  
  


To say Eddie is sore the next morning is an understatement. He hobbles out of bed and into the kitchen to see Richie drinking a cup of coffee. Richie’s eyes light up, then darken again once he catches sight of Eddie’s pained gait. 

“Well giddyup, cowboy, you’re lookin’ a little worse for the wear,” he says, whistling, and Eddie grimaces as he pours himself a mug. 

“Fuck off,” he spits back, but he can’t deny he’s feeling light-headed, knowing he’s sore because Richie fucked him so hard he could barely make it to bed last night. 

Eddie hasn’t been destroyed by dick in awhile, but it seems appropriate for a honeymoon. 

He gingerly sits across from Richie at the table and blows at his coffee.

Richie grins. “It’s okay, I’m sure the horse won’t mind.”

Eddie stares at him, coffee forgotten.

“I booked a good three hour tour of the area, we’ll be riding bareback, but I figured you’re used to that. I might have to re-name my horse Eds to get into the moo-“

“If you’re serious I’m just gonna stay here and nurse my broken ass,” Eddie tells him, and Richie throws his head back with a laugh.

“No, no, I’m not a sadist,” he says, and Eddie relaxes. “Easy day, don’t you worry.” 

“My ass thanks you,” Eddie says, a painful twang in his stomach as he realizes this is their last full day together. Richie just smiles over at him. 

“Your ass has been _very_ grateful lately, I could get used to this.” 

  
  


“I’m keeping score, you haven’t cared about math since high school,” Eddie says, grabbing the score card and tiny pencil from Richie’s hands. 

“Math? It’s mini golf,” Richie answers, gesturing to the field of bizarre animal statues and rotating windmills, one of which is pouring water into a sickly blue pond. “How awful are you planning to be at this?” 

“You have to _add_ your score at the end, and you bought us a quote, Big Bonanza Double, so you’ll be tallying in the triple digits,” Eddie says. Richie tuts and picks a putter and a couple balls. Eddie steals the blue one and heads to the first hole.

“I didn’t _mean_ to pick orange out of the bowl-”

“Yes, and you could have put it back,” Eddie tells him, and Richie pouts. “Now hush, I’ve got to concentrate.” 

Eddie lines up to sink his first shot, a rather easy course, actually, a fucking straight line. Richie coughs exaggeratedly, but Eddie’s spent his entire life training for these moments: zoning Richie out to finish the task at hand. 

If he’s being honest, he’s not that great at it. 

He misses. 

“What the _fuuuuck_ ,” he groans while Richie cracks up behind him. 

“Move, move, Spaghetti, lemme show you how the pros do it.” Richie sidles up next to him, dropping his ball on the fake green. He takes his time winding up to swing, shaking his hips in what he seems to think is a sexy show, and looks more to Eddie like a middle-aged dumbass in a hummingbird shirt awkwardly humping the air. 

After a minute, Eddie breaks. “Will you fucking _go_ already? This is going to take hours if you keep this up.” 

“Alright, alright,” Richie says, gently tapping at his ball. It barely makes it halfway through the course. “ _Fuck_ , you distracted me!”

“If I believed in karma, I think this would definitely be a sign.” Eddie hangs back so Richie slings an arm around his neck, then leans into his chest. 

“I’ll get the next one,” Richie says, breathing a kiss into Eddie’s hair, “I’m just getting warmed up.” 

Eddie hums as they putt their balls into the hole and then he pencils in ones for each of them on the scorecard. 

It’s their honeymoon. It’s not like anyone’s keeping track. 

Eddie wins, but it takes them three hours, so he’s not sure anyone’s really a winner. 

“I can’t believe we missed the tour,” Richie says, pouting his way back to the car. Eddie drains the rest of his water bottle and wipes at his mouth.

“I told you we could’ve bailed halfway through.”

Richie slouches his arms and climbs into the driver’s seat.

“I _know_ , but once I got to the gorilla I really thought I had a chance to catch up to you.” 

“You are far too competitive,” Eddie laughs, buckling his seat-belt. “But I’m also not too mad we’re missing a tour of some little old lady’s weird movie collection. I may have skipped it no matter how long that took us.” 

Richie glares at him. “Madame Young is not just ‘some little old lady,’ Eds, have some respect.”

“She’s almost ninety and that picture made her look barely four feet tall.” 

“Who the fuck cares about her measurements? She has the biggest collection of _Ghostbusters_ memorabilia in the _state_.” Richie’s waving his hands wildly, key hanging in the ignition. 

“The _state_. Why the fuck is that impressive?” 

“Oh my god, I can’t even talk to you.”

Eddie smiles when Richie finally starts the car.

“I’m just saying, find me the biggest in the country and then we’ll talk.” 

“Please,” Richie huffs, pulling out of the parking lot, “like we’re gonna get the two for twenty bucks deal I got with Madame Young anywhere else.”

“You gave that woman _twenty dollars_?” he asks, aghast. “Did you do this over the phone? Does she have some old Mozilla website or something? With old Clip Art images of ghosts?” 

Richie shakes his head. “So much fucking disrespect.”

They end up at the winery for most of the afternoon. Eddie orders them a bottle of red, and then Richie orders another, and a third shows up eventually, although neither of them can remember who ordered it. Eddie eats a burger and Richie eats tilapia and they walk home through the forest once the sun starts to set, the third bottle of wine unopened and carefully clutched in Eddie’s hand. 

“Fuck, Eds, we never had a fire!” Richie says upon arriving back at the cabin and seeing the empty fire pit. 

Eddie had been skeptical of having a fire when they arrived, even though the owners left them a few bundles of wood and Richie insisted he’s built “tons of fires before.” 

But now, with a bottle and a half of wine in his system and hopped up on last-day-of-vacation pre-blues, he’s willing to sprint around like a madman in search of kindling while Richie builds a teepee of wood in the contained base of cement blocks. 

They bicker a little, but eventually, they’re in folding chairs, admiring a medium-sized fire among the stars. Richie keeps poking at it with a stick, rearranging the wood, and Eddie’s not convinced he really knows what he’s doing, but it does keep the fire going. 

“I have to say,” Eddie says as Richie sits back down from his fourth walk around the flames, “I’m kind of impressed.” 

“What?” Richie asks. Eddie reaches over to clean a smudge of soot from his cheek. 

“You’re pretty good at this.”

Richie smiles shyly. “It’s a decent fire.” 

“It’s an _amazing_ fire,” Eddie insists, gesturing at the licking flames. “And we’ve almost been out here an hour.” 

“You getting tired?” Richie asks when Eddie yawns. Eddie shakes his head anyway.

“No, no, I’m good. It’s still early.” Richie watches him carefully, eyes gone a little dopey. Eddie knows that look. More than half of the time it ends with Richie crying. 

“You just don’t want the night to end,” Richie says, like he’s a fucking genius. 

“No, it’s the fire,” Eddie says, deflecting, “I wanna stare into it and satisfy my primal instincts for us to become one.” 

Richie snorts. “Alright, dude, I guess you’ll have to wait for your present.” 

Eddie freezes. Richie’s already laughing when Eddie looks back at him.

“Gimme that stick,” he says, snatching it away. Richie’s eyes go wide with recognition and he rockets out of the chair and into the house. 

Eddie gives a few cursory pokes at one log, but Richie’s back and breathless before he knows it.

He’s cradling something in his palm, wrapped in tissue paper. 

“My birthday’s not for another, like, two months,” Eddie says dumbly, staring at Richie in the moonlight. He feels the heat of the fire coating the side of his face in warmth. 

“I know.” Richie smiles. “I got it while I was on the road this year, and I was gonna wait, but, well-” He offers his hand up. 

Eddie takes the crumpled pile of paper gently. When he unwraps it, he brings it to his face in a rush. It has to be the dark, or maybe the weird light from the fire, or maybe he’s hallucinating from finally being a fully-rested human being, but isn’t it usually the opposite? He’s not sure-

“I know it’s a little bigger than yours,” Richie says, and Eddie snaps up to look at him, “but I don’t think the pairs are always identical. Your panda has that partner with the huge tummy, and the one with-”

“Richie,” Eddie breathes, “How did you-”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, I felt like such a shitty husband watching you walk around looking for it a few days ago.” 

Eddie turns the bear salt shaker around in his hand. It’s light and hollow, the same transparently pale cream color as the one sitting in his collection drawer at home. He’s spent _years_ looking for this stupid thing. So many weird sojourns to estate sales and antique shops, and no real reason other than the distinct and abhorrent connection he felt to a tiny ceramic creature. 

It was one of the first things he bought when he finally moved out of his mother’s house. He was feeling sentimental and it reminded him of her, which stung something deep in him. But as he got closer, its wonky eyes and curled little body stuck with him. “Damaged goods,” he heard his mother say in his head, so he scooped it up and bought it for a nickel. It satisfied some weird rebellion for Eddie, a combination of his mother’s taste and his own shock value to keep her away. 

He can’t believe the thing finally has a _pair_. This one _is_ a little bigger, with a wide smile instead of a shy grimace, and Eddie feels his eyes watering. He knuckles hard at one before Richie’s hand lands on his knee.

“Eds?” he asks, and Eddie shakes his head. 

“It’s- I’m fine, oh my god, I’m _fine_ ,” Eddie says through tears. 

“Holy _shit_ , did my present make you cry?” 

Eddie’s head is swimming with far too many _feelings_ , and Richie’s staring at him desperately, clinging to his leg like he’s worried, but Eddie just keeps shaking his head.

“Absolutely not, I’ve had some wine and the fire is burning my eyes,” he says, but Richie keeps watching him. He’s actually not feeling much of the alcohol anymore, the activity and the dark bleeding it out of him over time. But his head is still swimming.

“Babe-”

“Please do not-”

“I love you,” Richie finishes. Eddie hiccups out a sob. 

“Fuck,” Eddie says, holding the bear in his hands. “You’re making it worse.” 

Richie laughs and pulls him into a hug, the ceramic bear pressed between their chests. Eddie wipes his wet cheeks on Richie’s hoodie. 

“Sorry, dude, I’ll cut this shit out,” Richie says into Eddie’s shoulder.

“Please don’t,” Eddie chokes out.

Richie pulls back to sweep the tears off Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie tries to look away, but Richie holds him there, holds him up, keeps him together. 

“I know it makes no sense, but. Uh,” Eddie starts, his lip quivering again. He takes a breath and tries to calm himself. “Just… thank you.” 

“You are welcome,” Richie says back, and leans in to kiss him. 

Eddie pulls away. “I’m all wet and sloppy.”

“Oh,” Richie says, pressing back in to whisper, “oh dear.” He pecks at Eddie’s lips a few dozen times, bumping their faces together like it’s an accident, then coming back for more, half a second later.

“Fuckin’ stop it,” Eddie giggles, shoving a hand between them, tears dried up from the teasing. He gives himself a breather, watching Richie in the orange and white glow of the night. 

The stars are abundant and bright, skittered across the sky in breathtaking clarity. Eddie and Richie grew up with these kinds of stars in Maine - you could climb onto Richie’s roof in the middle of summer and see them painted in constellations above you. 

Eddie did, just once. 

Stan and Richie egged him on, and he was feeling bold and happy enough, at the end of a long night with his friends, celebrating his sixteenth birthday with a messy handmade cake and dumb action figures, to let Richie grab his hand and drag him outside onto the tiles.

It was scary and a little slippery, yet still somehow scratchy on his back. He had hated most of it, strung out on nerves and the irrational fear that his mother would break her ultimate rule of leaving the house after dark and see him spread out up there, bookended by his best friends in the world, his hand still clasped in Richie’s. But he also felt weirdly shimmery and _whole_ in a way he didn’t understand, so he had pushed away the fear for a moment and tried to appreciate it. 

Now his hand flexes around Richie’s, settled in his lap. They’ve both fallen quiet under the weight of a kiss, mouths moving slowly against each other. Richie’s other hand cups around his cheek, his jaw, his neck and shoulder, then back up, soothing in a soft rhythm. Eddie could keep at it forever. 

A pop of wood breaking apart jolts them out of it, their breath fogging in the flickering light of the fire. Richie gasps, grabbing for his poking stick and making a lazy effort. 

He turns back to grin at Eddie when he’s done. 

“Want me to let it go out?” he asks. 

His lips are shiny in the moonlight, and Eddie feels that shimmery glow again, under a whole new set of stars. But this time he knows it well, because he’s been feeling it for years. Years of feeling alive and being in love and having Richie look at him like _that_ , like he wants to take care of him and treat him right, like he wants him to feel alive and unafraid. 

Eddie never wants to forget it again. 

He stands up to brush at his pants nonsensically, flustered by the magnitude of his feelings. He clears his throat under Richie’s gaze.

“Yeah, uh,” he says, bouncing his eyes away. If he looks up, he’ll cry again, he knows it, so he scuffs at the ground with his shoe. “I think, uh. Let’s go inside.” 

“Good deal, my love,” Richie says, and Eddie turns quickly on his heel to hold back the tears. What the _fuck_. 

“Keep it together, Kaspbrak,” he whispers to himself. 

It takes a little while for Richie to calm the fire, make sure it’s safe for leaving untended for the night. Eddie waits quietly for him on the bed. 

That familiar buzz of guilt threatens to swallow him. _Why didn’t you get him a present?_ _Why can’t you do things like build a fire? Does he really deserve this? You? As a husband? He could do much better._

 _Sometimes loving someone isn’t enough. Not if_ you’re _not enough to begin with._

He almost lets it get him, hands fisted in the sheets, until Richie finally comes through the door. 

“That was mostly painless,” he says, face covered in sweat and soot, like a gangly, stubbly Santa who dropped down the chimney only to be met with flames. Serves him right for wearing a hoodie and flannel on Christmas night. 

“Was… it?” Eddie asks, watching him track in dirt for one step before putting a hand out, “Don’t fucking move. You’re _covered_ ,” he says, darting for the kitchen. 

He grabs a towel, a dustpan, windex and a whole roll of paper towels. When he turns the corner, Richie’s planted in the same spot, arms spread and body frozen, waiting to be cleaned up. Eddie’s breath blows straight out of his chest. 

“You-”

“I thought about getting some towels but I didn’t wanna track more shit inside,” Richie says. There’s dirt and soot and other unidentified brown smudge lightly coating his face, but Eddie throws the cleaning supplies onto the bed and the caution to the wind and rushes over to pull Richie into a kiss. 

“Mmph-” Richie grunts into his mouth, hands still floating in the air. Eddie only connects their lips, still conscious of the mess, and when he breaks away, Richie steals forward to hold on a little longer. 

“Hold still,” Eddie whispers when they pull apart again, and Richie nods, bumping their foreheads together. 

Eddie spreads out the towel and pulls Richie’s hoodie over his head. The t-shirt comes off next, fogged in black, then the pants, crinkled and caked in dirt. It’s no wonder they’ve done about a million loads of laundry since arriving. Their own contribution to climate change, but Eddie’s going to start composting soon, so maybe that will even them out. 

Down to just his boxers, Richie wraps his arms around himself as Eddie comes back to stand in front of him. 

“I think I can take it from here,” he says. Eddie shakes his head. 

“Just let me, okay?” Eddie says. It’s not really a question, but he would stop if Richie wanted. Eddie wants- well. He wants Richie to know he deserves this. 

He meets Richie’s eyes, suddenly hesitant, but Richie meets him right back. He nods. 

Eddie leans down to untie Richie’s shoes. It’s impossible to avoid the flecks of dirt, the smell of the bonfire radiating from his skin, but Eddie finds it hard to mind. His fingers abandon the shoes to crest over Richie’s stomach. When he presses his lips there next, Richie inhales sharply above him. 

“Eddie-”

“Just let me,” Eddie says, mouthing at dark tufts of hair, “just let me do this for you. Please?” he asks, gazing up to meet Richie’s eyes.

Richie nods again, petting a hand over Eddie’s head. 

Eddie peppers kisses up Richie’s whole torso, focusing on the softest parts, heaven under the sensitive skin of his lips. When he grazes the vague point of Richie’s hip, his tongue peeks out to lave over it. He looks up to see Richie watching him.

“You always take care of me,” Eddie kisses into his thighs, his hips, his chest. “You’ve been holding me together for years.”

Richie scoffs, but it’s shaky.

“You- are you kidding?” he asks, voice low. Eddie shakes his head.

“You did all this for me.” Eddie turns away, gesturing at the cabin. Richie blinks as his eyes scan the room.

“Yeah, it’s been a real rough ride for me,” Richie laughs. He’s stroking through Eddie’s hair, down to his neck, and Eddie shivers under his touch. His hands rub over the outer edges of Richie’s thighs. 

“I’m serious, Rich.”

Richie’s throat bobs, cupping at Eddie’s jaw. Eddie flicks his tongue over Richie’s thumb, and Richie’s mouth falls open, eyes dark. 

“You’re so fucking good to me.” He stands to look him in the eye. “You’re always so good to me.” 

Richie looks stunned. Frozen, arms around Eddie, gaping like a fish being told he’s really a bird. And it kind of breaks Eddie’s heart. 

“You deserve it,” Richie tells him, small and shaky. Eddie coughs out some air, though he’s not convinced it isn’t a sob, a thread of desperation struggling out of him. Richie holds him a little tighter and pulls him in for a kiss. 

All Eddie can smell is burnt wood and smoke, but Richie’s sucking at his tongue and clinging to him like it’s their first kiss, gasping into his mouth, moaning quietly when they break apart so he can dive back in. It’s the exact opposite of cleaning him up, both of them now covered in a thin layer of grime, so Eddie pushes a hand to Richie’s chest. 

“Why don’t we take a shower and then I’ll take you to bed?” Richie looks like he’s about to protest, and Eddie understands, but there’s no way they’re climbing into their clean sheets like this. Luckily, he follows Eddie into the bathroom and then the shower.

Eddie washes him slowly, touching every spot that catches his eye. He wants to take his time, draw it out, be good to Richie. Make sure _he’s_ good. He always makes Eddie feel so fucking good.

It’s what on his mind when Richie grabs him around the hip, suds slipping between them. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks. 

Eddie tips his head forward, letting the water roll over his wet hair. It’s warm and solid, the pressure. He feels his feet on the ground, his hands on Richie, Richie’s hands on him. His head rolls with thoughts and memories of the last week. He smiles.

“Yeah, baby,” he says, “I’m good.” 

Richie smiles back. His hand cuts through the water on Eddie’s back to grip at him. 

“You had a good trip?” he asks, though he knows the answer. Eddie hums for him.

“Probably the best trip of my life.” Richie beams.

“Really?” he asks, kissing at Eddie’s lips when he nods. “Better than Joshua Tree?” Eddie doesn’t hesitate.

“Yep. Did _not_ get fucked within an inch of my life at Joshua Tree,” he answers, though it _was_ a pretty good trip. Before they got together, technically, though it was the first time Eddie considered having a chance at it. It was an unconfirmed celebratory trip for the finalization of his divorce, with everyone but Stan, far too tired as a new father to fly in, and Bill, off tending to some movie premiere.

Richie had made him laugh the whole time, pointing out weird birds and snapping pictures for Stan, teasing him mercilessly about his outfit. But then he and Eddie passed by Lost Horse Mine, and Eddie had rambled on for almost twenty minutes about the history after a rabbit-hole spike on Wikipedia the night before, and Richie asked him endless questions, mostly about horses, and the sun was golden and dry, hanging over them with a purpose, and Eddie had almost told him he loved him, right there. 

It only took another month for him to actually work up the courage. 

“Well it wasn’t for a lack of trying,” Richie says, fond and floaty. Eddie switches off the water.

“Yeah?” he asks, grabbing for their towels. Richie ducks his head.

“Um, yes. I am, as always, surprised you failed to notice me gawking at you flexing your thighs in tiny shorts and a sports vest.” He lets Eddie dry him off like it’s a foregone conclusion. Eddie’s heart thumps, but he rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m certainly not failing anymore,” he says, fluffing the towel around the hair on Richie’s legs. Richie goes quiet until Eddie stands up fully again. 

“I remember watching you on that trip,” Richie says, voice slow and full of wonder, echoing off the walls of tile that surround them. “Really letting myself think about it, ya know? Before, you were married, and _believe_ me, I wanted in those pants, both sexually _and_ emotionally, but I always thought I was being a fucking creep.”

He weaves his arms around Eddie’s waist. When their bodies pull closer Eddie can feel the clenching in Richie’s chest. Any snide comment he wants to make sticks in his throat. 

Richie presses his lips together in a tight line before continuing. 

“Then watching you hike around in the middle of October, with our friends, grinning at me the whole way like I might be worth your fuckin’ attention,” Richie says, and Eddie sees the first tear fall, “It felt like you were mine already. Just a little.” 

Eddie wants to kiss Richie a thousand times over for a million different things. For the cabin and the salt shaker, for the days and days of time. For waiting for him for _years_ , even though neither of them knew he was waiting. For marrying him and loving him and doing this all side by side, for the whole fucking picture of their life together. But it’s when Richie lifts a hand to press against the lined scar on Eddie’s chest that his resolve snaps clear in half. 

“I was,” Eddie says into Richie’s mouth, Richie’s arm squeezed between them, fingers tingling over the still-tender memory of the injury that almost killed him, “I am, I am.” 

Richie grunts and Eddie feels the tears against his face when he slots their lips together over and over and _over_. The steam lingers from the shower, and Eddie’s breath is rough in his chest, gasping in hiccups between kisses, frantic with feeling. Richie’s arms swoop around him, cupping at the back of his head, bringing him closer, both growing hard, sliding against each other. 

But Eddie wants to treat him good, to make sure- 

“Wait,” he says, breaking them apart, clinging hard to Richie’s arms, “I want- let’s get into bed. I wanna-”

“Yeah,” Richie breathes, eyes unfocused. He reaches down to grab Eddie’s hand and leads him to the bedroom, shoving his glasses back onto his face on the way. 

When he presses back into the sheets, all thighs and dark hair, Eddie lets himself be pulled down, too, always willing to be led as long as Richie’s the one doing the leading. 

Eddie wants Richie to feel how hard he is, how much he wants this. What Richie does to him.

And he tells him, too, just in case.

“I wanted you so long, Rich, I swear,” he promises into the inside of Richie’s thighs, ghosting a hand over where he’s red and leaking, “wanted to do this,” and he licks the tip clean, bitter and strong on his tongue, and Richie spreads his legs open wide around his ears. 

“Eddie,” he moans, and Eddie’s hand stretches out over his stomach, raking down. The hair there moves with him, and then back, grains of black and flecks of gray, and Eddie feels like he could worship at the altar of Richie’s body, watch it grow and change and love every minute of it, soak in what he still has yet to take for granted. 

“Wanted you in every way, as soon as I knew how,” he tells Richie, taking him fully in his mouth, flicking his tongue in circles around and under the head. Richie whines when he floats down a little, just enough to pump back up, his hand strong at the base, but this isn’t what he wants, even if his mouth waters when he pulls off. 

Eddie means to say something when he slides up to kiss at Richie’s belly, but then he sees Richie’s wide eyes and wet, red mouth and all the words leave him and are quickly replaced by an aching need to be inside him. 

“Tell me what- tell me how you want me to-” Eddie stutters, and he truly hasn’t been this nervous since the first time, but Richie grips him around the hip and pulls him in for a kiss, resting between his thighs. They’re both so hard, and Eddie could rub off against him right here, slide his dick against Richie’s stomach, grind them both to an orgasm with frantic desperation. 

“Like this, fuck me like this,” Richie whispers between them. Eddie blinks. 

That sounds much better. 

And it really, really _is_. 

Richie’s hips and back are going to be sore tomorrow, his forehead already pinching in little spring of pain when Eddie pushes in and his legs jerk. But his limbs are long, they circle Eddie almost completely, hands tangled over his spine and ankles pressed into the small of his back, and they settle into the rock of their bodies once Eddie starts to pump his hips. 

They’ve never done it like this before, and it feels absurd now. It took them long enough to flip things around, for which Eddie can gladly thank his mirror idea, but now that it’s firmly on the menu, Richie’s always, for lack of a better term, gagging for it. And Eddie really loves fucking him from behind. 

Whenever this _mood_ hits them, when they feel like they might need to take their time and remember each other, Eddie’s always more than willing to lay himself out. And Richie’s always there to hold him, wrap him up and consume him. 

But _this_. This is blowing him apart somewhere small inside, crawling through him and reminding him of everything he already knows. And it’s all Richie. 

Richie, who’s punching out little _uh uh uh_ ’s right into Eddie’s mouth. Richie, who’s tight and hot around him. Richie, who’s hands fly to clutch at Eddie’s face as soon as he hits that spot inside, crying out, forcing their mouths together in a fucked out mime of a kiss, gifting him with whispered _I love you_ ’s as his speed picks up.

“Fuck, fuck, Eddie,” Richie’s saying, low and quiet, looking down between them as Eddie fucks him harder. “Touch me.”

Eddie snaps to it, messy and off-beat, but Richie’s eyes roll back into his head as soon as his hand squeezes over the head. 

“You gonna come for me?” Eddie asks. Richie nods, gasping for air. Eddie strokes over him harder. 

“It’s _so_ \- uh, babe, it’s so good,” Richie says, because he knows Eddie likes to hear it, and it almost sends over the edge. He squeezes his eyes tight and groans. 

“I love you, fuck, _Richie_ ,” he says, starting to come apart, “I love you so fucking much.” 

“Oh god,” Richie moans, sweaty palm gripping tight around the nape of Eddie’s neck to pull their mouths back together. Eddie lets himself fall forward, be pulled farther.

There’s no room for him to jerk Richie off anymore, but they’re grinding relentlessly together, sucking deep and short breaths when they can, and then Richie spreads a hand tight around Eddie’s ass to get more and Eddie breaks and comes. 

“Shit, _shit_ , I’m-”

“Yes, please, I love you,” Richie says, wet and real, held between them. Eddie chokes out a sob, coming through tears and deep inside Richie, and Richie groans and takes it, strokes Eddie’s back and lets him shudder and grind in hard. 

Richie shakes apart when Eddie lifts up to paw at him, stroking over him twice before he’s blowing onto his stomach. Eddie reaches up to spread it over Richie’s skin, and Richie’s eyes fall open to watch him, grunting down at the sight. Eddie’s hips twitch inside him, just once more, just to make sure he’s had enough. 

Richie’s foot slaps at his ass. “Eddie-”

“Yeah,” he answers, attacking Richie’s mouth again, holding his lips open so he can tongue inside, sloppy and sated. They tangle around each other for whole minutes, breathing together, chests heaving in a solid line over the bed. 

It’s long past dark. The fire burns out in smoldering orange and brown, volcanic and lazy to die, picking up from a light breeze in the air before snuffing out completely.

Inside, air flows easy through Eddie’s lungs, mouth sealed over Richie’s. 

Eddie stares up at the cabin one final time. Richie claps him on the back.

“We’ll have to come back,” he says into Eddie’s hair. Eddie covers the hand now on his shoulder. 

“We could always try something new,” Eddie says, though it’s tempting. It was a good week.

Richie pulls away to head for the car. Eddie follows him, triple-checking the count on the suitcases. 

“Babe, stop counting the bags and get in the car, I’m starving,” Richie says. 

Eddie takes an extra ten seconds, just to prove a point about consistency, and then climbs into the car. 

Richie honks the horn just as he’s buckling up. 

“The _fuck_ , Tozier,” Eddie cries, glancing back at the bags on instinct. He shakes it off and catches the end of Richie’s guffaw. 

“Chill, _Kaspbrak_ ,” Richie spits back. 

“Okay, are we fucking changing our names or not?” Eddie asks, and he doesn’t mean it as a deflection, but Richie snaps out of it immediately. 

“Ugh, I don’t know anymore.”

“It’s such a pain in the _ass_ ,” Eddie agrees. Richie’s throwing the car in reverse and rolling his eyes.

“And I’m fucking famous, what am I gonna ask them to hyphenate my Netflix special?” 

Eddie slaps him on the arm.

“Stop bragging, asshole, you know they’d do it,” he says. Richie grins.

“Fuck yeah, they would.” 

“I guess I’d want the, well,” Eddie stops, as does the car. Richie stares at him. “If we had, uh. If we had kids.”

Richie nods, slowly.

“Might be nice for them to have the same last name.” 

Richie keeps nodding. 

“Even if it is long and non-alphabetical because Tozier-Kaspbrak sounds _way_ better than Kaspbrak-Tozier,” Eddie says, then pauses, “wait, actually, now that I say it out loud again-”

“Let’s do it then,” Richie says, finally, and Eddie freezes with a hand mid-gesture. 

“The kids or the hyphenation?” Eddie asks, stunned. Richie breaks a little to smile, his hands gripped around the steering wheel. 

“The- both? Both, I think, yeah. One comes with the other, really,” Richie says. It’s Eddie’s turn to blink.

“Yeah?” he says. Richie nods.

“Yeah.” They’re blushing at each other, just a little, just between them. “Think so.” 

“Kay, well,” Eddie says, shifting in his seat, clearing his throat, “we’ll, uh. I’ll look into some stuff when we get home.”

“Yeah. Right.” Richie’s biting his lip out of a smile, focused back on the steering wheel. 

“We’ll talk. Further. About-”

“Let’s get lunch,” Richie says, and Eddie heaves a sigh. 

“Yes. Please. Lunch,” he agrees, and Richie takes his hand over the console. They pull slowly out of the gravel driveway. 

Richie waves goodbye to the cabin and Eddie feels a little something clutch in his chest. This whole thing has smoothed him out around the sharper edges that have always remained. He’s not going to kid himself - they’ll return in full force once he and Richie settle back into their regular lives, and think about adding a few, uh. Additions. 

He smoothes the hair flicked on Richie’s temple back and fiddles with his glasses. Richie turns quick to fake a lunge, teeth bared, and Eddie jumps back, startled. He slaps Richie on the arm and forces their hands back together. 

Maybe Vacation Eddie won’t die completely in the mean time. Maybe he will try to make more time for this in the future.

Time to climb up together and watch the stars. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't fret, I haven't forgotten about them Polaroids, I just forgot about them the entire time I was writing this chapter. Bahaha. But they will feature eventually, promises. 
> 
> Again, head [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22323910/chapters/53324413) if you wanna read my new AU, or find me on Tumblr at [tinyangryeddie](https://tinyangryeddie.tumblr.com/) or Twitter, now, apparently, where I'm [camerasparring](https://twitter.com/camerasparring), but I'm new and don't expect much lol 
> 
> Thank you again for reading, and let me know if you liked it!


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